


The Beast and the Magpie

by WinteryFall



Series: The Underground Tango [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adrenaline addiction, Angst, Captivity, Dom Steve Rogers, Escape, Light Bondage, M/M, Mafiaboss!Steve, Obsession, Open Ending, Possessive Behavior, Protective Natasha Romanov, Smartass Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Thief!Bucky, cat and mouse game, mafia!au, not a slow burn exactly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-04 18:31:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10996545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinteryFall/pseuds/WinteryFall
Summary: Steve Rogers is an infamous underground leader, who one day finds a thief from within his mansion. It soon becomes clear this little bird is not what he seems to be at first glance, and soon Rogers realizes the thief manages to steal his most important and guarded possession.The problem is, he might let him get away with it.





	1. The little Magpie

The blond man marched through the corridor, heading for the basement; two of his underlings had finally caught the thief that had been causing havoc in the estate this evening. Whoever the person was, they were a fool to enter in his territory; nobody in this city was usually stupid enough to bother or cross Steve Rogers. 

Yet, his subordinates had found a rat from within the mansion, having stolen some of the drug supplies they'd stored in the estate. Not only that, but the lone magpie had even been able to take down quite a few of their men while attempting to escape, which was unheard of.  
Natasha had finally managed to knock the man out briefly so they could tie him up, but he'd almost made it out.

"Sir, he's conscious. What should we do with him?" Barton asks, keeping a good distance between himself and their serious boss; Steve Rogers was known to be a ruthless man, especially if he was woken up too early like this. The blue eyes shoot a sharp glare at Barton, who directs his gaze away instantly. 

"I want to see the thief first."

As he enters the room, three of his closest underlings were currently staring down at the form tied to a chair. Once Steve enters though, they all back away quickly, a little startled about his sudden appearance.

First thing Steve noted was the fact that Tony had a black eye, and he was holding his arm in a manner that signaled it at least had a hair fracture. Rumlow had a bandage covering his arm, and there was a lot of blood in his hand. 

His face also had seen better days, and that was saying something given how scarred his face naturally was.

Even Natasha had a bit of bruising in her which surprised Steve, though she was still in a better shape than the two men, which was predictable.

"Boss, he refuses to give us his name." The scarred man grunts, spitting some blood to the floor.  
Steve measures them all from head to toe, honestly a little intrigued about the amount of damage and injuries. Alongside Barton, these three were his best, so seeing them injured and wary of the man in the chair was nothing short of impressive.

That did not mean Steve would be bothered by the little thief himself.  
He was far more ruthless and stronger than any of his underlings.

The blond man walks closer to the figure on the chair and the rest back away a bit.

His head hanged low, and the male seemed confused about the situation, probably due to the blow to the head he suffered from. His hair was ragged and messy, and the sleeveless shirt and pants seemed like they’d seen better days. Even his shoes had some holes in them.

Overall, he looked like any punk from the streets.

Except, his frame indicated that he was no ordinary street-kid or a junkie; he was lean and actually had muscle on his bones, and once his eyes glanced at Steve, they were reminiscent of that of a wild beast backed to a corner. 

Steve grasps the dirty brown hair and tugs his head back, so he could take a proper look of the thief's face. The intensely blue eyes just stare back at him without a hint of fear.  
"I heard you caused quite a commotion."

His voice was even and cold, the kind that usually sent shivers down people's spine. It was the kind of tone that indicated he was beyond angry. His underlings back away a little more, feeling the intense aura emitting from the man. They almost felt sorry for the shabby thief who'd just happened to cross paths with the wrong beast.

"It would be polite to at least offer your name." Steve continues equally chilly, holding onto the brown locks painfully tight. The man just glares up at him, eyes in such a sharp glare that Steve wondered if he was under influence already. The man slaps him across the face, but the thief just let's out a slight hiss, and keeps glaring at him like a wild dog. 

"All he does is hiss, or bites you if you bring your hand too close his mouth." Brock explains, showing his mauled limb. The fucker had almost bitten his finger off.

"It doesn't seem that he's used any of the drugs he stole; he may have been under influence already when he came in here." Natasha concludes, examining the strange man with a frown.  
"Where are they?" Steve demands, and Natasha nods at the black back bag on the ground. The thief had dropped it as they'd brawled with him. 

Steve walks to the bag and checks its contents, feeling the tied up man watch his every step and actually snarl at him, tugging his bindings as he crouches down next to the bag.  
There were few bags of their supply, some spare clothes, couple of knives and a small red notebook.

"Seems to be one of those homeless junkies." Rumlow concludes as he sees the contents. Steve just grasps one of the knives, noting that it was not your average kitchen knife; it was clearly a hunting knife, the kind soldiers sometimes used in the army. 

Basically, it looked too expensive for an average homeless person to have, unless it was stolen.

"Not bad; it's a high quality blade." Steve comments casually as he straightens and walks back to the brunet man, whose eyes were now on the knife Steve twirled in his fingers. 

"Where did you get this?"  
The blond zeroes his icy glare at the thief again, but he just glares back. 

Steve grasps the brown hair again, tugging his head back and holding the blade at his throat, repeating his question. He still did not raise his voice, but there was an extra level of stealth in his tone. 

The brunet still doesn't reply, despite the cold blade pressing against his skin. 

Steve keeps it there for a moment, waiting; despite the tense silence that would usually make even the toughest of men budge, this thief stubbornly refused to show any signs of fear.  
The blond man pulls the knife back and straightens himself, but still holds onto the brown hair tightly as he turns to look at his men. 

"Where did he enter from?"

"We uh..." Barton stutters, and glances at his companions for support. It was hell, being at the receiving end of their boss' stare alone like this. 

"We don't know." Natasha says simply. She had never been as intimidated of their boss as others, but even the woman knew what lines not to cross. Despite Steve's initial stare, Natasha could sense he was not quite as upset as he would usually be.  
"Most likely from the backyard; there are a lot of blind spots."

The boss hums and looks back down at the thief, tugging on his hair to make him look up at Steve.  
"How did you know where the drugs were kept?"

Again, no reply, just that intense gaze aimed at Steve.  
The boss started to feel that the man was not high of drugs, but adrenaline, given his aggressive behavior and twitchy body. 

"If you were gonna use 'em, you shoulda have bought some from the dealer instead of breaking in to Rogers' mansion." Brock growls at the man who finally reacts with something else than a growl, smirking wickedly and rolling his eyes.

"I don't need your shitty crap." 

His voice was surprisingly soft, contradicting his earlier vicious noises.  
The man tilts his head back towards Steve, almost a challenging gaze in his eyes.  
"I just wanted to put bastards like you down a peg." 

The group half expects Steve to smack the cocky thief again for his insolence, but Steve just looks down at him with his usual cold look, not showing any signs that he was upset. Steve knew not to do that, for a reaction was what this thief wanted.

Plus....he was honestly a little intrigued now, of this thieving magpie.

"We should just off this smug little shit." Rumlow huffs, but quickly averts his gaze as Steve looks up at him sharply.

"I believe you do not have the right to make that decision, Rumlow." Steve reminds him coolly, and the man mutters out an apology, taking a step back.  
"Then what do you want us to do, boss?" Tony questions while still holding his aching arm.  
The blond man hums, examining the thief whose hair he still held onto coolly.  
"We'll leave him to the basement for now, and ask questions tomorrow."  
"But boss, won't there be a chance that he escapes?"

"Are you saying you cannot do your job, Barton?"  
The man gulps and quickly states that he could no doubt handle it to save himself.  
"Good."

Steve finally releases the thief, and walks out, but not before growling orders at his underlings.  
"Lock the door and monitor the entrances to this room, including the small windows. I shall speak with the thief again in the morning."

"Are we just going to leave him sitting like that?" Tony asks, already knowing the answer.  
Steve just glances at the thief dismissively, and nods, turning his back to them as he marches off.

 

Once the morning broke, Steve heads back to the basement.  
Tony had gotten a cast to his arm, and Rumlow was looking a bit better too now - which didn't say much, honestly.

The unknown thief was still sitting on the chair, head tilted back to rest uncomfortably against the backrest of the wooden chair. He was probably in pain, but did not show any of it, just glances at Steve as he enters back to the room. 

Now that more daylight sneaked in to the room from the small windows, Steve got a better look of the man. The big thing that stood out was his left arm; it was covered in tattoos, different swirling white symbols and words on top of black base. There was also a red stylized star at his shoulder.

The pants he wore were shabby, and he probably hadn't taken a shower in days. 

As he stops in front of the thief, towering above him, the man just rolls his head a bit to look directly up at Steve. The intensity of his eyes from last night was gone, probably due to exhaustion, but there was still a level of stubbornness in them. 

"You gonna kill me now?" He asks, without a hint of fear. It was bizarre for Steve; he'd never met a person who had not been afraid of death, or him.  
Steve grasps his hair again, not really needing to force him to look at him, but to establish a level of control over the thief. 

"Perhaps; I have some questions first."  
The brunet coughs out a laugh, his voice raspy. He probably needed water, as he hadn't drank for at least 8 hours.

"Then just kill me. I ain't got anything to say to you." 

Steve remains quiet, then let go of him, and walks to the sink the basement had. The water there tasted rusty, but it did not matter. He grasps the glass and fills it, walking back to the thief who was obviously watching at the glass intensely.

"Thirsty?" Steve asks casually, tilting the glass and dropping few droplets at the man's face. The thief kept his lips closed, despite clearly needing some hydration.  
"I can give you water if you just open your mouth and talk."

"No." 

The blond man sighs, and pours rest of the rusty water on his face, making the thief's eyes sting as some got in them. It was pretty agonizing as he couldn't wipe them, having his hands were tied behind his back. 

"You're making this needlessly difficult." Steve scolds him, but the man just grunts, squeezing his eyes shut as they stung now. 

He goes to fill the glass again, and this time forces the man's mouth open by holding his nose, until he had to gasp for air. He pours the water down his throat forcefully, making the man couch and gag, almost chocking on it.

"Come on now; one glass of water should not be so difficult." Steve's voice was perfectly casual, accompanied with a ruthless undertone.  
"Fuck...you..." the man coughs, bowing his head forward as he spits to the floor.  
Steve fills the glass for the third time, and this time the man doesn't kick a fuss, drinking it obediently even if tasted awful. 

"See, that wasn't so hard..." Steve's sentence is cut short as the thief suddenly leans forward and bites into his hand so hard he draws blood. The man yanks his hand back, mildly surprised. That's when his underlings enter the basement, and as they see his bleeding hand, they all look shocked.  
"You little shit! How dare you gnaw at our boss!" Rumlow growls at the man, ready to pull a gun at him, but he is stopped as the blond man holds his hand up without a word.

Steve gazes at the shabby thief, who licks off the blood from his lips, still glaring at Steve.  
He felt something tug at the back of his head, and a darker grin appeared at the crime boss' face. While his workers back away slightly as they see it, the tied male still does not show any fear.  
"Interesting, you definitely aren't an average little thief." 

"Boss, you should get your hand checked; who knows what kind of infection that bite may cause." Tony comments eventually, and the blond man hums, turning and walking towards the door. His workers immediately gave him space, not wanting to block his way.  
"Stay out of this room; I want to deal with this personally."

His tone was calm, but his underlings knew all too well what that meant. He was intrigued by this burglar, and if Steve Rogers got intrigued about somebody, it never meant anything good to that person. They almost felt sorry for the brunet.

 

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, in the dim basement. His arms hurt for being tied so tightly, but the man refused to show his discomfort. He was not going to give the mobster the satisfaction that he was not feeling so hot. 

The brunet kept leaning his head back against the backrest of the chair. It was uncomfortable, but allowed him to breathe better. His ribs still hurt for the beating he'd gotten during the fight, and his mouth felt parched. He could still taste the rusty water too, and his head ached a bit.  
There was no way the brunet would let on to any of this though. 

When the door opened, a bright light pierced into the room for a moment, blinding him. He could hear the door close and footsteps head his way. He didn't even bother looking at the man.  
A hand grasped his hair again, tilting his head forcefully so he had to turn his still lightly blurred gaze at the mob boss. 

The brunet had to admit, Rogers did not really look like a stereotypical mafia leader. He'd been almost surprised to find out that this clean-cut, slightly bearded man was the boss. What proved it however was the way his goons steered clear of his path and generally acted like scaredy cats around him. 

"I believe you still haven't given me your name."  
The brunet just snorts too exhausted to even speak anymore. 

He doubted he could have spoken though; his throat was so dry that he probably would not be able to let out a peep. The man examines his face, blue eyes scanning every inch of it. The brunet wasn't scared. He'd been in this situation before. 

"We dug around a bit; you don't seem to be a local, are you?"  
The man makes a noncommittal hum. His head was aching so bad now he couldn't even think coherently, but he was not gonna give in to this bastard.  
"Are you refusing to speak right now, or is it that you can't?" 

The brunet just gives him a glare, then instantly closes his eyes as even the tiny light hurt his eyes. The leader hums thoughtfully, a slight smirk on his lips. It had been near 30 hours since the thief had been captured, and he still refused to give in despite clearly being in pain and physically drained. It was impressive.

The brunet senses the man shift around a bit, and he has to open his eyes as something touches his lips. It was a water bottle, filled with liquid much clearer than the murky shit that came from the tap.

"You can try and bite me again for this, but it won't do you any good." Steve comments casually, but there was a stealthy tone hidden underneath his words.

The man keeps his lips closed, even though he desperately needed the water; he could swear he felt his tongue swell in his mouth. The mobster hums again, and then shrugs, standing up and placing the bottle on the ground, few feet away from him. 

"It's your funeral." 

He leaves the room again, leaving the brunet alone, staring at the water bottle thirsty. It was just the kind of mind fuckery one would expect from these guys. Rogers was probably expecting him to beg the man to give him the water once he came back.

Well. He got another thing coming.

The brunet tugs at his bindings again, noting that his small movements he'd been doing the whole time had loosened them quite a bit. As he keeps wiggling his arms, he finally manages to tug one of his arms off from the bindings. He takes a moment to let his dizzied head settle, before helping his other arm free, then getting up slowly, holding onto the back of the chair for support.

His head was so dizzy, but after a while he felt stable enough to go and grab the bottle. Part of him wanted to throw the thing away, but while he was known as stubborn, the man wasn't stupid; he needed a drink, badly.

He gulps down the entire bottle with almost one go, and then drops it to the floor, looking around the basement. The door was firmly locked, and most of the windows were too small for him to climb trough.

Then, he spots a bit larger one at the corner; it was partially covered by the shelf, but if he pushed it away a bit, and used the shelf as a ladder, he could make it through. 

Based on the lighting outside, it was around noon; he could not see any shadows from the windows, indicating that the area was probably empty right now.  
Still. He had to work fast if he wanted to make it out.

The man scrambles to the nearest window, scanning the backyard a bit more. Indeed, it was empty and there were plenty of bushes to hide around. Still, he was certain there were alarms hidden to the yard, so he'd have to sprint for it, and climb over the wall as fast as he could.  
Once he'd get over it, it would be easy for him to just disappear to the forest.

The brunet looks around, noting that the basement did not seem to have any cameras. If it had, somebody would have probably burst in already to stop whatever he was doing.

Unless, they wanted to watch him trying to escape for some reason; the thought made his skin prickle unpleasantly.

With a huff, the brunet shakes his head and focuses on the task at hand. He walks to the shelf and starts pushing it aside to reveal the partially hidden window behind it. It was quite a task in his weakened state, but somehow, perhaps due to pure adrenaline, he manages to do it. 

He takes a deep breath and just slumps against the shelf for a moment to catch his breath.  
Eventually though, he gains enough composure to attempt to climb the shelf.  
The window is jammed, but after a bit of tugging, he manages to pry it open. The sudden yank nearly makes him fall off, but the man manages to hold onto the shelf and not fall flat to the dusty floor.

As he peeks outside, the man still doesn't see anyone. The coast was clear.

"Impressive. You managed to do all that despite your weakened state."

The sudden noise startles the man, and he loses his grip, falling back to the ground with a pained groan. As he scrambles up to his fours, he finds the blond man stand leaning against the open doorway, arms crossed. He was smirking a bit, and his posture was mostly relaxed. 

The brunet felt his heartbeat thunder in his ears, and he glances around, looking for any sort of weapon to defend himself. Rogers may have been of higher status, but his frame and strength of his grip made it clear he was not a man to be underestimated. 

"Just so you know; Tony and Barton are waiting outside already, so there's no point to try and scramble for that window."

The brunet glances behind him, and could indeed see two shadows near the window now.  
Only way out was past Steve, the open doorway with its blinding light.  
He could not take the mob boss out in a fight, not in his weakened state, but he was quick. He could also feel something sharp on his back; there was an old, rusty knife on the shelf.  
Perhaps he could...

Steve's eyes shift into more predatory stare the second the brunet shifts his posture, and he was clearly expecting the brunet to bolt.  
Okay, this was not a good situation.  
"Boss? Can't we just shoot the bastard, I got a clear shot!" Tony announces from the window, and cold chills travel through the trapped brunet's spine. He had no way out. Even if he tried to bolt, the blond was clearly ready to stop him.

"Are you questioning my decisions, Stark?"

Steve's cold tone caused the younger male turn quiet with a slight 'eep' noise.

For a moment, tense silence filled the room. The brunet did not dare to move, not really knowing what to do; he could not head for the window that was blocked. 

The way Steve was looking at him, he would not make it out that way too. 

Shit, this had been a bad idea after all. He refused to regret attempting it though.

The man shifts his weight a bit, and Rogers' glare locks sharply at him again, waiting.  
Then, the brunet suddenly moves, bolting to the chair and throwing it at the man, actually surprising him for a second. Steve dodges the thrown projectile, and blocks a blade-strike aimed at his shoulder. The brunet doesn't bother trying again however, just uses the momentary blindness and sprints past the blond man, scrambling up the stairs.

"Boss!" Tony shouts down at the window, radio ready to inform rest of the mansion folk that the thief had escaped, but Steve growls at him to stay down.

"He won't make it far." The boss comments calmly, as he walks up the stairs.  
Sure enough, Natasha had been waiting upstairs, and had knocked the man out again. He was sprawled to the floor, rusty knife kicked far away from him.  
"Did you find out what you wanted?" She asks, looking down at the messy thief.  
"No, but I got somethin' else that's interesting."  
The woman hums, and then looks up at his boss.  
"What do you want to do with him now?"

 

When he woke the second time, the brunet noted he was no longer in the basement. The air was no longer dusty, and he was laying on something softer. His arms were tied above his head, which was still uncomfortable. Once he manages to open his eyes, the man notes that he was indeed in a different place, probably in one of the dozen bedrooms of the mansion.

The man takes in a deep breath to clear his head further, and takes an inventory on himself. He was still wearing the same clothes - the shabby, dirty pants and shirt - his limbs and head still ached like before, and he did not feel like anything had particularly changed, aside from the setting.  
It seems they'd thrown him in here as he was which was kind of relieving if he was honest.

He looks up and tugs on the rope tying his hands, but this time the knot was much tighter, and he could not move them an inch. It was impressive work, he had to admit.

"You'll just strain your arms, don't bother."

The brunet instantly looks to his side, finding Rogers sitting next to the table at the other side of the room, casually eating an apple from the fruit bowl. The brunet says nothing, just tugs at his arms again. As Steve got up, and began to pace towards him, the man stops and turns his head to look at the mob boss with a glare. 

The blond sits beside him, still holding the half-eaten apple in his hand. 

"You look hungry." He comments casually, and yeah, the brunet did feel like he was starving, but he was not gonna play this game. If you gave these guys your pinkie, they'd take your whole goddamn arm.

"Really. You can tell me if you are, the fruit bowl’s for you after all."

Steve nods towards the said object, but the man just keeps his gaze at him, almost if waiting for him to do something. 

"Woulda let your hands free so you could eat by yourself, but I hafta make sure you won't pointlessly try to attack me again." Steve's tone was chatty, perfectly casual like he was talking to an old friend, and not to a man tied into a bed. A weaker minded person would have been unnerved by the situation, but the brunet just kept himself calm, knowing he'd been in a worse pinch before.

His self-control was clearly impressing the mobster boss, who kept examining him curiously.

"So? Are you gonna behave now?" Steve asks, reaching over and tapping his wrists with a questioning look. The brunet wanted to get out of his bindings pretty bad right now if he was honest as they itched like crazy, so he decides to give in for a bit, and nods.

Steve stares down at him for a moment, clearly looking for something from his eyes.  
The brunet just looks back at him, gaze unwavering. After a moment, the blond man reaches to untie his wrists, leaning so close that the brunet could smell his aftershave. 

Once free, he focuses on rubbing his aching wrists, noting they had pretty bad red marks on them; whoever had tied him to the bed either really hated his guts, or had a fetish for stuff like this. If the person who'd done this was Rogers himself, either case seemed likely and equally disturbing.

Steve walks to the table and brings him the bowl. The brunet eyes it suspiciously, but concludes that there was no point for the mobster to try and poison him right now, not when he clearly wanted something. A mafia leader would not let him live and tie him to a bed like this just to poison him right after.

The man watches him eat, clearly amused about the ravenous way the brunet went through the food offered. He ignores it, for the man had every reason to be a glutton right now; he hadn't eaten properly in ages.

"Can I finally have your name?"  
The male considers it for a moment, and then figures he might as well state it now.  
"Bucky."

The blond nods without a word, examining him with his cold blue eyes. Bucky was used to having people of his status glare at him, but not like this; he shifts a little uncomfortably, but doesn't show his discomfort otherwise. 

"Again. That was impressive."  
"What?"  
"What you did; nobody has ever managed to break into my mansion and get as far as you did, let alone manage to almost escape when you were captured."

"I'm pretty sure you'd usually shoot the thieves." Bucky comments, then regrets his choice of words as Steve lets out a cold laugh, smirking at him almost wickedly.  
"Yes. I suppose we do."

Bucky turns his gaze back at the fruits, wanting an excuse for the need to avert his gaze. He did not want to let on any of his uneasiness to this man, ever.  
Not him or any fucking gangster.

"You need a shower."  
The sudden, abrupt comment makes the brunet look up at Steve again with a questioning look.

"Seriously; have you looked in the mirror lately? It will take ages to get your stench off these bedsheets." The blond laughs a bit. Bucky just shrugs at that nonchalantly and eats the last fruit, wiping his mouth. He wasn't interested in talking to the blond.

"It wasn't a recommendation." Steve's tone turns colder, as he was clearly annoyed by Bucky's dismissal, and the man grabs his jaw, forcing Bucky to look at him.

"Take a shower, now. I'm not having some filthy pooch in my house."

Bucky remains quiet, just stares back at him. The blond sighs and then gets up, yanking him off the bed and basically dragging him to the bathroom, throwing him to the floor there. Bucky's entire body freezes for a second, but then he hears the door close, and realizes Steve had left him alone.  
He grunts irritated and scrambles off the floor, noting that this bathroom had no windows. 

That was probably why Steve trusted him by himself there; he could not escape. 

After a few more moments, he chucks his clothes off and goes to turn on the shower. Part of him felt annoyed about following through with Steve's order, but he could honestly do with a shower right now.

In fact, Bucky had not realized just how dirty he was, not until he looked down and saw how dirty the water got at his feet. Steve had been right, he probably stank like crazy.

After a while of cleaning himself - the water was a bit cold, but welcome - Bucky comes out of the shower, admittedly much cleaner than he went in. His skin looked healthier again, although you could now also see the scars on him easier.

Once he comes out of the bathroom, Steve was still sitting on the bed, waiting for him to finish. His eyes skim over Bucky's frame, and the brunet could have sworn there was a hint of surprise in them for a second. Surprise, then his face changed into something akin to a satisfied feline. It was like Steve had had a hunch about something, and was quite pleased to find out he'd been correct.

"Happy now?" The brunet asks, drying his hair, irritated how knotted it was. 

The blond hums and gets up, stalking closer to Bucky.  
Then, hands grasp the towel from the brunet who pauses, confused about what the mobster was doing. Then, Steve paces behind him and starts rubbing through his wet locks almost gently. The brunet drops his hands to his sides and just stands there, letting Steve play with his hair. Bucky had no clue what the hell he was up to, but it was better to just play along for now.

"You ever comb this mop?" The man asks casually, noting that Bucky's hair switched between rough and smooth, almost like there were bits of hay-strands mixed with silk.  
Once the whole thing would be thoroughly combed through, it would probably feel like a velvety canvas under his fingertips. The thought was quite fascinating to Steve, but he did not voice it out loud.

"Not the most important thing on my list." The brunet comments dully: he was clearly not interested in talking to the mob boss right now.  
The blond hums again, and eventually drops the towel on Bucky's shoulders, brushing his fingers over the warm damp skin on his shoulder.

He then paces back in front of Bucky, clearly measuring him with his gaze. The brunet keeps his posture straight, and stares back at him with unwavering glare.  
"What do you want?" He demands, and Steve keeps his wide grin at bay, not wanting to show just how much he enjoyed Bucky's defiance and bluntness, not yet anyway.

Instead, the blond tilts his head slightly, a milder amused smirk on his lips.  
"Well. For starters, you still haven't quite told me all the answers I need."

"What else do you need? I told you why I did, and my name." Bucky grunts at him again, and the man hums, walking to the table and picking up the small knife he'd used to probably cut the fruit on the bowl he'd given to Bucky. He twirled it in his fingers a bit, a neat trick that could intimidate weaker people, but Bucky did not care.

He was not scared of blades.

"I'd like to know how you did it; none of my men or women noticed you until you were almost outta the door."

Bucky just grunts nonchalantly, and decides it was okay for him to sit down at the chair next to the table. He rubs his wrists again; the water had helped somewhat, but his hands still ached.

"Sorry about that. Rumlow got a bit over-eager with those as he almost lost a finger because of you."  
Oh. So it hadn't been the boss himself.  
Bucky felt almost disappointed about that, and then irritated that he was disappointed.

"Not gonna feel sorry. It's not like he would get uglier."

Steve actually laughs at that a bit, more genuine one than the slight devilish grins he'd showcased before. The blond man then sits down as well, at the opposite side of the table.  
He still has the knife in his hand, sliding a thumb across its sharp edge without really cutting himself.

"You got sharp teeth; they cut through flesh almost as good as this knife does if you apply enough force."

Bucky keeps his face stoic.  
"Canines; inherited from my pops."

The blond hums still examining the knife in his hand.  
"I could tell. That hurt quite a bit by the way." He brings the bitten hand up, and there were few stiches on it. Steve did not sound angry however, although Bucky was certain if the man was, he would not show it anyway. 

"What do you want?" Bucky repeats.

"Did I not tell you what I want?" Steve looks at him pointedly.

"Mob bosses don't turn all friendly and chatty just for intel, especially not over some petty burglary."  
Steve laughs again, and brushes through his short hair. This little Magpie was truly an interesting one.

"No, I suppose we don't. Truth to be told, I could use somebody of your talent."  
Bucky just glares at him.  
"I'm not becoming your fuckin' runner, Rogers."  
The blond man hums, and then swiftly strikes the knife between them, inches away from Bucky's hand. Despite knowing this kind of behavior, he's still taken by surprise and jumps a bit.  
"It wasn't a request, Bucky." Steve whispers with a warning tone, tapping his finger against the knife handle as he still held onto it. 

"You should have figured out by now I'm not exactly affected by death-threats."

"No. You are not. But I tend to get what I want." Steve yanks the knife of the table, leaving a pretty good deep gash on to the wooden surface. He brings it to himself again, sliding a finger across the sharp edge like before. 

"Well, you might wanna just kill me to save the humiliation."  
The blond snorts and then laughs, colder this time.  
"Your arrogance could end up being a problem I admit."  
"Well, clearly that didn't stop you."  
Bucky half-expected the punch, but it still hurt like a bitch.  
Next thing he knew, the blade was on his throat, and Steve had pinned him to the floor.  
The man did not seem thoroughly angry however, as Bucky could see a glint of amusement in his eyes, despite the cold tone he used with his next words.

"While I admire your bravery, you better learn some manners if you plan on staying here."

"I'm not gonna." Bucky hisses back at him, still a bit too weak to knock Steve off from him.  
The blond man examines his face for a while, before getting up, and heading for the door.  
"I'll be interested to see you try and escape. Trust me, you won't make it far."

Steve's tone was chilly, but Bucky just scrambles up and keeps glaring at him.

The blond closes the door and locks it behind himself, noting his hands shook a bit.  
He had not felt this excited in years, and the man wasn't quite sure what was it about this thief that intrigued him so much. 

The stubbornity?  
Lack of fear?  
Maybe all of it.

"Sir, are you really going to leave him there by himself? What if he escapes?" Tony asks as he sees the man leave the room. The blond just turns to look at Tony, who backs away, not liking the look his boss had on one bit.  
"I'm counting on it."

 

Bucky waited until nightfall, before starting to plan his escape. It would be easier to sneak out then.  
He'd expected Steve to come back during the day, but he didn't: one of his goons brought him more food - the sand haired one who seemed the nicest honestly, as he'd even apologized for being trapped in there - but other than that he'd been left alone.

It felt like a test; almost if the mob boss wanted to see how he was going to get himself out from this pinch. Well, Bucky was going to pass this test, and rub it in his annoyingly handsome face. 

He surveyed the whole room. 

The door was tightly locked, and the windows were also firmly sealed with no way of prying them open. However, as he looked around the large cabinet at one wall, Bucky noted that there was a small opening hidden behind it; the mansion, being owned by a mobster, had a lot of hidden rooms and secret passages. 

In fact, Bucky had sneaked in using them, so he had a vague idea on where this one could lead as he recalled the maze layout.

It was a good option, but Bucky knew better than that; the room probably had cameras hidden like the basement, so they would see him pushing the cabinet away and opening the secret passage. 

The only place with no cameras was the bathroom, so he walks there, pretending to go wash his face a bit. The bathroom did not have any windows on it, but Bucky was certain there was a way out, for when he'd taken a shower, the man had noted a small breeze coming from somewhere. 

As he glanced down, Bucky realized that one of the tiles below the sink was cracked. 

He hums and slowly pushes the door a bit more closed, just enough so that it hides him crouching down and taking a look at it.

There seemed to be an open space behind the tile, and the breeze he'd felt came from there.  
He looks around for something to try and pry the thing off. That's when he remembers the knife Steve had left in the fruit bowl. It was a little suspicious, leaving him a weapon, but Bucky was not going to look the gift horse into its mouth. 

He walks back out and grabs another apple from the bowl, taking the knife to peel it. He then cuts his hand a bit on purpose and lets out a loud curse out loud for good measure, before heading back to the bathroom with the slightly bloodied knife in hand.

Now if he was being watched, they would not question why he brought the knife with him, as it would be clear he wanted to clean it from blood.

Bucky uses the knife to cut into the softened plaster, made flaky due to the moisture in the room. Soon enough, the tile falls off, and he catches it to a towel he'd put under the spot for a pillow to mute any sounds. 

Behind the hole was indeed a small space, it was probably made so the plumber could access the old piping and fix them. There seemed to be some sort of narrow passageway between the walls. If he could pry the hole bigger, he could probably slip through it. 

However, it would look suspicious of him to stay so long in there just to clean the knife.  
He glances at the clock on the wall, and contemplates his next move.  
It was 9:30; He should probably wait for proper nightfall so that the room would be darker; sneaking the knife in there would be harder to spot them. 

So, he comes out of the bathroom, throwing the now clean knife to the bowl and pretending to be irritated. He'd wrapped his hand with the bandage he'd found from the bathroom cabinet.  
Aside from that, the towel and a toothbrush with toothpaste, it did not really have anything else in it.  
They'd done good job taking away anything he could use for a weapon or so, except for the fruit knife, which still made him suspicious. 

Why Steve had left such an obvious weapon behind?

As Bucky slumps to the bed, he could not stop but feel a little doubtful about this. 

The fact he'd been left by his devices so far was strange. Sure, the obvious routes were blocked, but there was at least one less-obvious one that a non-attentive person wouldn't have noticed. 

Rogers must have known it was there however, and based on what Bucky had heard, he wasn't the type to take such risks. 

Unless he was being monitored which was likely given what had happened in the basement earlier.

He glances towards the table and the knife on it. It started to feel like the mobster was taunting him by leaving that thing in there, knowing Bucky could probably use it for his escape.  
Hell, he could use it just to undo the lock on the door, but the brunet did not bother, knowing that he would probably be caught too easily, given the goons patrolling the large house.  
So...if Steve was testing his escaping skills, perhaps he was even aware of the opening in the bathroom? What would the man expect him to do next? 

Bucky had no idea where the pathway behind led, but Steve probably knew it. 

Even without this intimate knowledge, the brunet could deduce some things logically: if the pathway was used to fix the old piping, it probably sneaked around the manor a lot, leading to other bathrooms and perhaps even the laundry room. 

For all he knew, it could even connect on the secret passageways at some point, and when it came to those things, Bucky had some idea of on where they went. 

He'd have to try and go through a route the blond man probably would not expect, but that Bucky could not figure out until he entered the hidden maze. 

He'd have to wait few hours for now though, until it would be darker. 

 

"He's gone to the bathroom again; I suppose the stink did not leave with just one." Tony comments, watching the monitors while holding back a yawn. He wasn't quite sure why their boss wanted to witness this, but nobody was stupid enough to question their mafia boss.  
Especially not, if said boss was Steve Rogers.  
"He found the opening."

Tony stiffens a bit, feeling his boss pace closer behind him. He puts his hand on the backrest of Tony's chair, and the man scoots further away from it, not really liking it when Rogers came that close. You never knew what he'd do, for all Tony knew he'd try to snap his neck. 

Well, it actually wasn’t likely, but it was only healthy be a little afraid of a mafia leader like Rogers.

"The old passage for the piping? I thought that was closed off ages ago."

The blond man hums, an intense glare aimed at the monitors. They could not see the man right now as he was hidden behind the bathroom door, but after a moment the brunet comes back out, rubbing his hair as if drying it. 

"Not all of it. A small part is still linked to the passageways."  
"If you don't mind me asking..."  
The blue eyes glance at Tony, and for a second the man forgets what breathing is.  
"I was just curious, y' know." He mutters, rubbing his wrist nervously.  
"I want to see how far he can get."

The younger male is actually surprised to gain an answer, and just nods, turning his attention back to the monitor. The brunet had seemingly gone back to the bathroom to retrieve the towel, but he did not come out. The slight grin grew on Steve's face.  
"Switch to the passageway cameras."

Tony does as he's told. At first, the dim narrow hallway is empty, but after scrolling through a few of them – the feed was honestly awful due to the conditions in the old dusty routes and the fact the cameras were older models - they see the man slip in to the corridor from behind a boarded passageway. He barely manages to squeeze his frame trough the opening, but once he does, the man glances around, still tense.

"Not bad so far; makes me wonder how he guessed that thing would be connected to the hidden maze?" Tony muses more to himself than his boss, who just keeps watching the screen, now crossing his arms and allowing the younger male breathe easier. 

They watch as the brunet surveys his surroundings, then starts lurking to the left.  
"Wait...why's he going into that direction? The way out is on the opposite direction."  
Steve just hums, not commenting to the situation, just observing it.  
"I guess he doesn't know the layout." Tony chuckles a bit gleefully, not noticing the icy glance his boss gives him.

Steve knew better than that; the only way Bucky could have sneaked in the mansion was trough these passageways. He must have known where he was going.  
"Should we send somebody to go and fetch him?"  
"No. I want to see what he's thinking."

Tony could not stop but shudder a bit at that tone; when his boss got interested about something to this level; it was like watching a predator measure its prey, playing with it before giving the final blow. It was quite frankly, terrifying. 

After a few more hesitant turns, it becomes clear where he's heading.  
"Doesn't...that lead to your private lounge, boss?"  
Steve just nods, eyes glinting with cold amusement.  
"It's the last place we'd expect him to go. Smart."  
"I don't know. I mean. He oughta know that place is watched securely; cameras everywhere and the windows got alarms on them."  
"Yes, but he'll have a good chance at escaping from there before anybody gets in."  
"Are we gonna let him?" 

Steve huffs, and then turns to head out of the security room.  
"Of course not; I'm not letting a gem like this slip through my fingers."

Tony gulps down nervous, knowing what that meant. It was reminiscent of the time he had been hired: Tony had been dumb enough to try and hack the mobster's bank accounts for personal reasons, which had gotten him in hot water. He'd been brought to the mansion, beaten the crap out of, and after that Steve had offered him a job in exchange for forgiving his little shenanigans.

Sure, there was actually another reason why Steve had been forgiving, but it was nobody’s business at this point. 

Either way, there was no way he'd turned that offer down, Tony liked life very much.  
Steve had that same face on now that he'd had back then, except that it was twice as bad.  
The man was clearly not just interested about the brunet's abilities. 

 

When Bucky pushed the secret door open into the master bedroom, he noted it was empty, and the lights were out. The boss was probably out somewhere in the mansion dealing with business. This had been a risk, as if Steve had been there; he would have been caught instantly. 

Despite the seeming peacefulness of the room, Bucky was cautious; it was too quiet.

Bucky had heard Steve was known to be confident in his own abilities, but seeing how security-free the room was, was a little ridiculous. Then again…it made more sense for this wing to keep intruders out rather than lock them in, so perhaps that’s why the security seemed lax.  
He was pretty sure there were cameras hidden somewhere again, though.  
Bucky better get his ass out of there and fast before he’d be spotted in the dim room.

He walks to the nearest window cautiously, peeking outside. The window overviewed the eastern side of the mansion, and Bucky could see the city lights behind the forest. There was only about ten meters between this side and the wall, so sprinting trough and climbing over would not be too difficult of a task. 

Especially once he notices that there was a tree growing right next to the wall. 

There were probably alarms in the window, alerting anybody about them being opened, but he was fast. He could make it to the tree in no time and climb over.  
Hiding into the forest and being stealthy was his forte, so even if the goons followed him, they would not locate him. 

Bucky glances around, then takes a deep breath, and prepares to push the window open and sprint.

"I've said this before, but I say it again; impressive."  
Bucky turns on his heels, grasping the fruit knife he still had in his pockets.  
Steve was standing on the doorway, hands crossed with a smirk. 

Bucky curses inwardly; of course he should have expected this.  
It was all too convenient.  
"So that's how you got in. You used the maze, didn't you?"

Steve paces closer into the room, clearly not bothered by the knife in Bucky's hand.  
The brunet glances behind him. He could still try and yank the window open and sprint, but for all he knew, the blond probably had ordered his minions to crowd his escape route.  
"How did you find the entrance?" 

Steve's chatty tone was unnerving, and the way he was completely relaxed despite being unarmed did not help. Bucky showcased none of this unease however, he knew better than that.

"It was poorly hidden." Bucky comments simply, still contemplating if he should run for it. Steve had moved away from the door, so he could escape from that way too, but...

"I suppose so." Steve chuckles, inching closer to Bucky step by step like a predator stalking its prey; for someone else it would have been terrifying, but the brunet kept his cool.

"Why did you even bother asking? If you knew I came here, there musta been cameras in the passageway...So you woulda have seen me the first time."

"Oh there are, but they ain't recording, hence we did not see you enter the first time as nobody apparently paid attention; should replace those old pieces of junk." Steve shrugs, now just few feet away from Bucky. They circle each other a bit, with Bucky having to shift away from the window, still holding the knife in his hand defensively. 

"You see...the maze has not been used in years so my guys don’t always check the feed there; some parts of it are blocked off, others are near impassable. It was brave of you to venture in there." Steve purrs at him; they were now standing at the opposite ends of the room, equally far away from Bucky's planned escape route.

“That’s a pretty big oversight I gotta say.”  
“Perhaps; good thing you came in and pointed it out.”

Suddenly, the brunet flips the knife in his hand and throws it at Steve, who backs away, only getting a cut at his cheek. This distraction gives Bucky enough room to swiftly move in and kick him in the gut, actually sending the man stumble back against his bed. 

Before Steve could recollect himself, the brunet is by the window, yanking it open and jumping through it, running for the tree. 

The blond just sighs and watches after the brunet, who only makes it to the root of the tree, before he gets hit with a sleeping dart. The man looks at it startled and yanks it off quickly, but it was too late; he sways and collapses to the ground, unconscious. 

Barton walks to him, looking a bit miffed about having to do this. He would never admit it to their boss though.  
"What now boss?" He asks instead, looking at the blond man leaning out of the window, looking at the unconscious form on the ground satisfied.  
"Bring him in; I'll have a little chat once the Magpie wakes up."

 

Bucky groans as he wakes up slowly, the sedative had done a number to his head, making it ache again. He was resting on something soft again, but not on a bed as the same softness persisted against his back. It was probably a couch. 

His hands were tied behind him, though this time more loosely.  
The brunet almost wants to snort; somebody here clearly had a bondage fetish. 

He sensed someone's presence nearby, watching him struggle awake.  
As Bucky finally opens his eyes, his vision is blurry. There was somebody sitting on a comfy chair across from him, and even without his full eyesight, Bucky could tell it was Steve from the blond patch at the top of his head. 

"Morning." 

Steve comments casually, drinking from the wine-glass he had. As Bucky looks around, it was indeed morning; sun was shining outside, and Steve had switched from his grey shirt into a bit more formal clothing, although his shirt was still partially open, and tie was untied.  
He looked kind of handsome, a detail Bucky had noticed long time ago, and found it irritating when his mind reminded him of it.

"You slept through the night; normally that stuff doesn't knock people out so long; I suppose your lack of nutrition made it work better."  
Bucky says nothing to that, just tries to free his arms. 

"I was gonna head out for business, but I wanted to talk to you first."  
"Yeah? Maybe I don't want to talk to you right now."

Steve hums, and then puts his glass away at the table beside his chair, getting up and walking towards Bucky. Swiftly, he tugs the man up into a sitting position and grasping his hair again, forcing the man to look at him. Steve rests his other palm beside Bucky on top of the backrest. 

There was no hint of fear in those blue eyes, and Steve wanted to grin at that, feeling his entire body shiver lightly in excitement. He doesn't show his inner thrill to the man however, remaining calm and collected on the outside.

"You don't have that option." The blond states matter-of-factly. He was quite enjoying the challenge in Bucky's eyes. He stays there for a moment, long enough for Bucky to start shifting restlessly, before moving back, slowly letting go of his hair.

Steve then walks back to his chair and sits down, resting his leg on top of his knee relaxed, picking up his wineglass again. 

"What do you want then?" Bucky grunts out after a moment of silence, while still trying to wiggle his arms free from their bindings.  
"It's been a while since anybody managed to break in this place: I could have use for your kind of skillset."  
"Fucking forget it! I ain't working for a goddamn gangster!"

The amount of venom and spite in Bucky's tone surprised Steve; yes, a lot of folks did not like his kind, but there seemed to be personal reasons behind Bucky's distain. It did not matter though: Steve Rogers was known as the man who got what he wanted.  
And he wanted this man pretty bad.

"I doubt you have much of a choice for that matter."

"Yeah? You gonna threaten to kill me? You know that ain't working!"  
Steve hums circling a finger across the smooth edge of his glass.  
"No, but everyone has their weak spot; all I gotta do is find yours."

The brunet remains quiet, his face going stoic now. The stubborn defiance filled his expression, and he leans back on the couch, tugging his legs to his chest like a pouty child.  
It was actually kind of cute, but Steve would never admit it. 

"So you gonna lock me in here till you find it?"  
"Locking you anywhere doesn't seem to do any good." Steve points out with an amused smile. Bucky could not deny that; he was known to be able to escape from almost anywhere.  
"Sure, we could tie you up to the basement again, this time making sure you won't be able to climb your way to the window, but I'd rather not do that."

"Why not?" 

"Because that would make things very uninteresting to me, something I do not want right now." Steve comments casually, drinking rest of his wine. Bucky says nothing to that, just keeps his gaze at Steve, following his every move.

The blond man puts the glass away, and looks at him for a moment, holding his chin.

"What?" Bucky asks again, not exactly liking the look Steve was giving him.

The aforementioned man gets up again, and walks to him. This time, Steve sits down beside Bucky, and reaches for his arms, tugging him so his back was turned to Steve now. The brunet glances back, trying to see what the man was doing.

He feels the rope loosen around his hands, and the man could actually feel Steve rub his aching wrists a bit, tsking.

"You need to stop getting into these situations." He comments, but the brunet remains quiet, seeing no point in commenting on that. 

Suddenly, Steve yanks him back, so Bucky could feel his back press against the broad chest, and Steve's breath brush into his ear while he still held onto his wrists. The brunet bites his lip not to have his body shiver from the touch, and just waits. 

"I mean it Bucky; you'll need your crafty hands for your future job, don't ruin them."

The man purrs into his ear with a hushed tone, making Bucky unable to hold back the shivers running through his whole body now. Fuck this guy.

After what felt like hours, but only lasted about another second, Steve lets him go, and Bucky brings his hands forward to rub them himself. 

"I'll have to go now. We continue this conversation later." Steve nods at the two standing on the doorway, and Rumlow hauls Bucky off the couch crudely, shoving him forward.  
"Move it; we'll be bringing you to your suite princess." He snarls at Bucky, still clearly pissed about the bite in his hand. The woman glances at the scruffy male disapprovingly, but says nothing. 

 

Once Steve returns - it had been frankly a boring transaction, he'd known the man would try to trick them and was now six feet under with a bullet wound to the head - he heads towards the room they'd locked Bucky in. 

This one had no windows or other ways to escape, aside from the tightly locked door; they usually used it for interrogation as it had a mirror-glass wall. Despite knowing this, Steve was half disappointed, finding that Bucky was in fact still there, lying on the mattress they'd brought for him. 

Then, he notices something unusual. The man was on his side, clutching his stomach, and he was pale and sweating lightly. Steve frowns, wondering for a second if one of his goons - probably Rumlow - slipped something to him. 

Then, he realizes what it is, and crouches down in front of Bucky, looking at him amused.  
"You don't look so good."  
The brunet's eyes open, and he glares at Steve, only to close his eyes a second later as nausea hit him. Now that the adrenaline had worn off finally, he was going full withdrawal.  
"I thought you said you didn't use."

Bucky grunts at him, curling up a bit more as he takes in a deep breath.

He felt like shit, and having that bastard Rogers sneer at his face didn't help. 

The brunet shifts to turn his back at the man - a neglectful and stupid idea for most people, but Bucky was fairly certain Steve was not going to do anything other than grin at him - and shields his eyes from the light by draping his tattooed arm over them.

For a moment the room goes silent.

Then, he suddenly feels fingers brush at the star-shape on his shoulder, and Bucky's thoughts pause, as his every instinct works to determine what Rogers was up to. The man says nothing, and keeps tracing the outline of the star with his fingers.

"This is quite something I gotta say; must've taken ages to cover your whole arm."

Bucky makes a noncommittal noise, wanting to swat Steve's hand away, but his body felt like led.  
"....You know, it reminds me of somethin' but I can't quite recall what it was." The blond chats casually, holding his chin with a thoughtful look in his eyes. The brunet remains still, feeling his heartbeat raise and this time not out of his miserable state, but something else.

If Rogers would connect the dots, he'd be dead instantly.  
He was not afraid of death, but did not exactly want to die.

Suddenly, he feels the man tug his arm away from his eyes, and Bucky manages to use it to smack Steve across his face reflexively. The man shifts away a bit, rubbing his jaw as he looks at Bucky irritated. 

The brunet just stares at him, glaring at Steve wildly.

Then, he has to slump back down and clutch his stomach as another fit of nausea hit him.  
He feels Steve shift closer again, but he's too weak and in pain to do anything about it now.  
The brunet feels Steve yank him off the floor, and Bucky expects him to smack him or something, but instead the man tugs him against his warm frame, carrying Bucky off the room.

"The hell are you..."  
"I doubt that room with its bright lights is the best way to deal with your withdrawal." The crime boss states casually.  
The brunet just keeps looking up at him with half-closed eyes, clearly too exhausted to really give him a snarky remark back.

Steve brings him to his private wing in the mansion again, keeping the lights dimmed as he lies the brunet back down to the soft couch. 

Once he let's go of the brunet, he notes the man felt limp, almost if his whole body was drained of energy right now.  
"I know my couch is comfy, but aren't you exaggerating a bit now?" Steve chuckles at him, and Bucky manages to huff back, and then curls up more, bringing his knees to his chest as he closes his eyes, swallowing down hard. 

He was shivering too now, feeling cold chills run through his body; withdrawals were awful.  
"....You were going to use the batch you stole, weren't you."  
"No." Bucky manages to grunt out, keeping his eyes closed.

"It's not very convincing, when you are suffering from drug withdrawal." Steve points out with a amused smirk, still looming over the nauseated male, who seemed irritated about his presence.  
"It's the adrenaline okay?" Bucky huffs finally, managing to glance up at the man. 

The crime boss hums and tilts his head with a lift eyebrow.

"I’m not using, my addiction’s adrenaline based; that’s why I do crazy shit like try to rob your stuff."  
Steve blinks, having not expected this kind of confession from the brunet who was usually very uncooperative. Perhaps his miserable state made him chatty. 

Steve slides down to sit on the coffee table, leaning his palms against the glass surface.  
"Has this been something you’ve had for a long time, or did you develop it recently?”  
The brunet goes quiet, clearly reluctant to explain himself.  
Not that it mattered; Steve could not stop but smirk, for he'd found the weak spot he'd been looking for.

"Shall we make a deal then? Work for me, and I can guarantee you won't have to deal with this kind of displeasure anymore."

Bucky huffs at him, barely able to keep his eyes open.  
"What? You gonna feed me your shit?"  
"No. But you'll certainly be able to have adrenaline rushes coursing through your system." 

The blond watches the man keenly, knowing that Bucky was tempted by his words; he hated the withdrawals.  
However, one didn’t cure addictions by feeding them, Bucky knew this obvious fact all too well.. 

"Why'd you even need somebody like me? You can scare anybody to do your bidding."  
Steve hums, cracking his neck as he rubs his shoulder.  
"People are predictable, Bucky; I need excitement in my life."

The brunet snorts at that, and then shifts a bit, closing his eyes as another wave of nausea hit him. 

"That's why I need you; you are anything but predictable, based on what I've seen so far."  
The eager tone in Steve's voice was evident, and Bucky could feel his gaze rake over him in a manner that would have frightened a weaker-willed person. 

"Yeah, well then I am obliged to refuse, because you getting what you want would be predictable."

For a moment, Steve remains quiet, and then suddenly he starts laughing, so loudly that it nearly startles Bucky's nausea away. 

"You're the first person bold enough to say that to my face, and not get shot about it." Steve wipes his eyes, still chuckling as he states that. Bucky just shrugs a bit, not knowing how to react.

The blond man shifts away from the coffee table, and the brunet opens his eyes, as the man grabs his chin, tilting Bucky's face up so Steve could look at him directly in the eyes. 

His free palm rests beside Bucky's head, and the brunet stays completely still, looking up at the man. He was so close his breath brushed over Bucky's face, and he had to use all his willpower to not smack Rogers again or shiver. The man had an uncanny way on provoking reactions out of him, much more than any other person did. Not that he'd ever admit it to Rogers.

"Be glad I'm intrigued by you; when I said that people usually get killed for that kind of language, I meant it." There was no anger in Steve's voice, but it had a clear cold undertone despite the smile. His thumb brushes over Bucky's lips, and the brunet almost wanted to bite on his hand again, although he wasn't too sure about the reason behind it right now.

After a few more seconds, Steve lets go of him and straightens himself up, walking to the king sized bed, and grabbing a blanket on it, tossing it over Bucky.  
"Take a rest; we can discuss the details later once you stop trying to throw up all over the place."  
"Won't your minions question why I am here?"

"They ain't gonna question nothin' I bring to my bedroom personally."

Bucky says nothing to that, just curls under the admittedly warm blanket, and counts to ten in his head, then counts the footsteps Steve takes before leaving the room. He pauses on the door however, and glances at Bucky.

"Just in case you do feel like trying 'ta run; we secured this room, including the windows and the secret passage, so you ain't getting out till I tell you to."

Bucky just grunts, gaining a smirk from Steve before the door closes and locks behind him. 

 

"You seem more upbeat today." Natasha comments as Steve appears to his office. She was standing against his desk, arms crossed. Normally Steve would have growled at her for doing that, but he was on a good mood as she said.

"I haven't had this much fun in ages." He comments with a smirk, walking around the table and sitting to his chair. The woman hums, and then walks to close the door, a signal she wanted to discuss something privately.

Romanoff was his most trusted underling, not the least because she was there for the start for him; he was more inclined to listen what the woman had to say in a lot of cases.  
"I assume it's because of our visitor." Natasha concludes as she walks back and sits on Steve's table. Again, it was something he would not allow her to do in front of others, but when they were alone, he did not care that much. 

"He's stubborn, that's for sure." The blond man chuckles grasping a bottle of whiskey from the minibar beneath the table and pouring them both a glass.  
The woman accepts it with a nod, but while she was smiling, there was a bit of worry in her eyes. Steve's smirk dies down, and he looks up at her with a frown.  
"Something happened that I should know of?"

"Can I speak to you off the record?"

Off the record was a code word for her wanting to have a chat as a friend, not as a subordinate.

The man hums, and lightly brushes a finger over a button at his desk to silence the microphones in the room. They did not have to worry about cameras as the office did not have any inside of it.  
It wasn't really necessary for them to hide their mutual trust to one another from rest of the group, but Steve had an image to maintain, and Natasha understood it better than anybody.

"I understand your curiosity about this man, but to be honest it troubles me."  
"Why?"  
"Because...I think he might be dangerous."  
Steve huffs and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.  
"You say that about every new recruit."

"Steve. I'm serious; that star on his arm is a symbol for a certain syndicate I know of."  
The blond frowns at her a bit, catching on to what she was implying.  
"You think he's an… assassin?"

"Former at best; he's clearly down his luck, but if the star tattoo means what I think it means..."

The woman didn't have to finish her sentence, for Steve could understand what she was talking about. Natasha had a star like that herself, a red symbol on her lower back. It was smaller than the tattoo Bucky had, but it marked a member of a certain Assassin group. Commoner would not understand its significance, but people in the underworld knew to fear the ones with red stars in their bodies.

"It could be a coincidence too, Natasha; a star is a common symbol." Steve points out.

"Yes, it could." Natasha agrees after a moment, but she was still frowning. Part of the blond man had a feeling the woman was not telling him everything, but before he could demand further answers, there's a knock on the door, and Barton's voice calling out.

"Boss, we got a situation!"  
Natasha shifts away from the table and walks to the side more appropriately, before Steve allows Barton to enter.  
"What is it now?" Steve growls at the sand blond man annoyed, who stutters over his words a bit.  
"T-the thief escaped."

The blond man blinks, genuinely surprised. It had been only about an hour since he left Bucky into his bedroom. His recovery rate was either incredibly fast, ot he'd somehow gotten a fix to cure his withdrawal. The former was bizarrely more likely.

"How?" Natasha demands from the man, who licks his lips nervous.  
"H-he picked the lock...the lock with a fruit knife."

Steve stares at the man for a moment, making him fairly certain he was going to die now. Then, the blond man grins like a madman, getting up from his chair, forgetting about his drink.  
"Where did he head?"

"T-to the forest, that leads in the city. Do you want us to go take him down?"  
"No. I'll go myself."

Natasha gives him a disapproving glance, but says nothing and just follows Steve out with confused Clint at their tail.

 

Bucky had somehow managed to get out of the mansion despite his sickened state. When the initial nausea had stopped, he'd spotted the familiar fruit knife on the table. Steve had actually forgotten it there, so the man decided to try and pick the lock to the door with it. 

By a miracle, he'd managed to do it, and actually found an open window nearby, jumping out and climbing over the wall by using the tree next to it. It seems the residents had thought he'd be securely locked away in their boss' wing, and underestimated him greatly.

 

Bucky knew better than to celebrate yet; if he'd noticed anything about Steve, it was clear that the man would probably come looking for him.  
He'd just reached the nearest alleyway, and stops to catch his breath. Adrenaline had seeped back into his body, driving most of his nausea away, but he still felt dizzy and weak. 

After a moment, Bucky manages to drag himself into a nearby store, just sitting on the benches near the wall near the entrance. He leans his head back against the wall and breathes, knowing full well there were people looking at him a little suspicious or concerned. He did not blame them, given the fact he was wearing a sleeveless shirt and no shoes when it was probably really cold outside at this time of the year. Bucky ignored them for now, leaning forward and rubbing his eyes.  
Eventually, a store manager walks to him, a wide man with black hair and sort of a serious scowl in his face. 

The stern look was kind of ruined by the fact his name sign said 'happy."

"Excuse me sir, but I'll have to ask you to leave, some customers are a little concerned about your presence."

Bucky hums rubbing his eyes and leaning back with a deep sigh.  
"M'gonna. Gotta catch my breath first."

The man frowns, and examines him from head to toe. It was not the kind of deep sweeping look like what Steve did, that made him feel twitchy and restless. This was a typical glance one would give him when they questioned if he was trouble.  
"You seem like you ran a mile."  
"Probably. Don't know how far the mansion was."

"The mansion?" The manager blinks confused; he also seemed surprised by the lack of hostility from the man.  
Bucky just shakes his head, and gets up, feeling stable enough to continue.  
"Excuse me for the intrusion. Had to catch my breath."  
The manager watches him with a deep frown, then grabs his arm to stop him from leaving suddenly.

"You seem like you're in trouble. Perhaps you should wait for the Police to show up and sort this out." There was almost genuine concern in the man's voice, and Bucky hated to turn him down on this, but he really had to get a move on. 

"Really, I'm fine, just gotta head home to feed my cat." He deflects the man's concern quickly, trying to sound casual.  
"Did you just happen to forget to put on shoes when you went to your jog in this cold weather?"

Bucky shrugs, muttering something akin to a 'yes' as an answer, backing away and slipping out of the store door. Once he reaches outside however, Bucky spots a familiar looking car in the distance; it seemed like one of those black vehicles Steve's goons drove. 

He quickly sprints away from the store yard, heading for the nearest alleyway. 

If he could only make it to his apartment without being seen, he could pack his stuff and flee the town, he'd done stuff like this before. He still had plenty of cash stored under his floorboards.  
Bucky stops just before stepping out of the alleyway shadows, realizing that more of those cars were on the move. Steve had sent half his minion army after him.

It was almost flattering, but mostly it spoke of something dangerous that Bucky didn't want to deal with. 

He spends the next hour dodging the patrolling vehicles and occasional walking mobsters clearly hell-bent on finding him. He almost gets spotted by the red haired woman once, but manages to sneak away behind a truck just before she could follow him.

Eventually, Bucky makes it to his apartment - an old, technically abandoned house at a quieter district - and quickly sneaks in, closing the door behind him.  
His breathing was quickened, but thanks to the extreme adrenalin rush, he was feeling focused and sharp. He also felt great, but knew not to linger in this feeling too long; he had to get out of the city fast before Steve's goons caught him.

Bucky had no clue what the man wanted from him exactly, but the way he kept looking at Bucky like a predator at times did not promise anything good. Not to mention, the fact he'd sent an entire army after him...Bucky had seen freaky exes who were less obsessive.

He quickly grabs his stuff, whatever he needs; clothes, toothbrush, some food and his money, a few weapons he had stored under the floorboards as well. As he grabs his shoes to put them on however, Bucky suddenly feels a prickle in his skin and tenses, glancing out from the windows.  
He felt like he wasn't alone in the house.

The man remains still and quiet for a while, but the only thing he could hear was his breathing and fastened heartbeat. Just as he dismisses the feeling as baseless paranoia, he hears footsteps behind him and turns around to find goddamn Rogers stand on the large doorway that led to the empty living room. He was still wearing the usual mobster outfit, sans the tie, and his hands were in his pockets now. 

"How the fuck..." Bucky questions the man, honestly dumbfounded.  
Nobody who'd been chasing him had never found his apartment before. 

"The store manager pointed us to the direction you first went."

Bucky pales a bit, now concerned for the man. As if noticing his worry, Steve shrugs, glancing aside with a bit bored look. "He's fine. Tony just asked him a few questions."  
"Still. He couldn't have known..."

Steve's gaze zeroes in on him, and Bucky felt like a deer caught in headlights; he'd been chased by bad folk before, but Rogers was different from that; his goal was not death, and that was honestly scarier than good old murder. 

"You did good, avoiding my men. But you could not shake me off your tail." The purring tone in Steve's voice irritated Bucky to no end, because there was a small part of him that shamefully enjoyed the genuine praise in Steve's words.  
Then the last part registers properly.

"You...you followed me? Why?"  
It was a dumb question; Rogers clearly had some sort of obsession over him already, but Bucky had to ask.

The blond paces closer, hands still in his pockets, and Bucky backs away, awfully conscious of the knife in his pocket again. This situation was mirroring what happened in Steve's mansion only that they were now in Bucky's home turf. 

"Figured it would be fun, go out on the field for once." Steve’s tone was chatty, but his eyes were fixated on Bucky, clearly waiting for his next move. The mobster was enjoying their game, and something about this unrivaled attention from such a dangerous man as him catered to some dark part in Bucky's mind he'd rather not know existed. 

Freaky ex was one thing.

Having a crazy, freakishly powerful mafia boss pining for you in an unknown way was another, and it was the kind of thing Bucky wasn't keen on dealing with.

"Seriously. You're wasting awfully lot of time and resources chasing after a little bird like me."  
The blond man hums, his gaze raking over Bucky again in a manner that was not quite as casual as his chatty tone. Whatever slight enjoyment he'd gotten from Steve's praise was now replaced by reflexive unease as he saw the way Steve looked at him.

Bucky cannot stop himself.

The second Steve shifts, he suddenly jumps at the man with a fierce cry, knocking him to the floor and punching him square to the face. Steve doesn't remain fazed for long however, as he grabs Bucky's fist to stop the second punch, and knocks him off, licking off the blood from his face. He then quickly moves and kicks Bucky across the room, making him collide with the wall harsh, knocking all the air out of his lungs.

The brunet scrambles to the floor, grasping for air, then quickly rolls aside to avoid another kick aimed for his head now. The man gets up quickly and blocks Steve's fist, aiming a harsh strike at his sternum, making the mobster stumble back, gasping for air himself now.

Bucky takes this moment to grab his bag and try to head for the door, but Steve is too fast, swiping his legs so he falls to the floor, quickly pinning the brunet against the dusty floorboards by grasping his wrists and locking them above his head. Bucky was on his stomach, face pressing against the hard floor uncomfortably, and he wriggles around, trying to free himself from Steve's grip.

This felt too familiar; Bucky hated deja vus like this.

The blond man breathes out harshly for a second, then chuckles with an uneven tone, a wide smirk plastered across his face. Jesus, he would have never gone to the mansion if he'd known how insanely obsessive the owner could get.

"You're definitely stronger than you let on." Steve comments with a tone that made this discovery sound like the most amusing thing he'd ever witnessed. Bucky would have responded with something snarky usually, but now he could feel something hard press against his lower back, and he tugs on his wrists again, now a bit freaked out.  
It was kind of obvious part of this whole deal was sexual, but it still freaked him out to feel that, namely because majority of people who chased after him just wanted him dead.

"That really hurt you know?" Steve purrs out again, leaning closer to let his words brush over Bucky's ear. 

That's when the brunet manages to get Steve off by jerking his head back and head-butting him square to the face, startling the man enough to knock him off and get up again, his entire body shaking with adrenaline. 

He moves swiftly to kick Steve in the gut, making him slide across the floor. 

Bucky then grabs his bag and swiftly sprints out of the room and trough the backyard, running to the nearest alleyway.  
He had to get out of the city and fast; it was now clear as day that Steve's motivation for capturing him was more than just the interest in his skill, and an interest like that could be bloody dangerous. 

Suddenly, he hears a gunshot behind him, and something hits the asphalt right behind his left foot. Glancing back, he could see the scar face guy after him. Bucky skids and quickly dodges to another alleyway, avoiding another shot.

Shit, these guys really wanted to stop him.

The brunet quickly climbs over the fence ahead, and sprints into the wider road, only to be nearly ran over by one of the black vehicles that had been tailing him.

Bucky doesn't bother checking who the driver was, just sprints into another direction, hearing angry yelling after him. As he turns the corner however, Bucky curses, realizing it was a dead-end. He looks around wildly, then spots the pile of boxes at the corner he could use to climb over the fence, and quickly jumps up to the first one, scrambling to get past the tall tile wall.

Another shot rang in his ears, and it scrapes his neck, hitting the wooden plank he was gripping, and Bucky stumbles to the ground, landing to his fours and quickly looking up, finding Rumlow staring at him wildly, gun pointed at his head. 

As he tries to fire again however, the weapon clicks uselessly, as it was put of bullets.  
Without hesitation, Bucky lunges at the man, knocking him to the ground and striking his face against the pavement hard, his entire body fueled by the largest fix of adrenaline in ages.  
He then feels something sharp strike his side, and Rumlow knocks him off, holding a bloody knife in his hand. 

"You fucker are gonna pay for playing our boss for fools!"

Bucky quickly dodges another swing at him, feeling a wicked smile appear in his face.  
He was a little taken by the stuff coursing through his veins, and he strikes Rumlow in the gut hard, making him drop the knife, before throwing him against the wooden boxes with a loud growl.  
The gangster coughs out blood, but gets up regardless, staring at Bucky in slight surprise.

"Thought you were just a junkie." 

Bucky cracks his neck, looking at Rumlow with a gaze that almost rivaled the coldness Steve could dish out. "Don't assume shit just because you caught me on a low moment." He growls at the man, and then charges at him, dodging a punch aimed at his face and scoring the man to his jaw, sending him fly against the wall.

Bucky quickly moves to kick his knee in Rumlow's gut, making him cough blood again in surprise. Before he could land another strike at the man however, somebody yanks him off Rumlow, sending him stumble against the trashcans.

It was Steve, and he was staring at Bucky with an expression the brunet had not yet seen before.  
The earlier, confident stroll and relaxed swagger was replaced by sheer intensity that the brunet wasn't even sure of what type it was; anger, excitement, whatever it was, Bucky knew he's better sprint rather than fight. 

However, before he can move, Steve charges at him, knocking all the air away from his lungs by kicking him in the chest, then quickly grabbing his hair to smack his face against the wall, making him stumble to the ground with his ears ringing.

His vision was blurry, and he could feel something warm run down his cheek: Steve's hit had actually cracked his head open. Bucky tries to get up but a foot lands on his back, forcing him to stay on the ground.

It doesn't take the man long to pass out, but before blacking out, he could feel Steve lift his foot off him, and crouch down to pick him off the ground. 

 

When Bucky woke up, he felt dizzy and nauseous, this time not thanks to withdrawal though.

He was stripped down to his pants, and noted that there was a bandage around his head; his aching leg was also elevated to a pillow, and another bandage was wrapped around his torso to conceal the stab wound. There was even some sort of Band-Aid on his cheek, probably covering a small cut. His arms were tied above his head firmly, making them ache a little. 

He was lying on something soft, much softer than the mattress in that mirror room he'd been kept in, let alone that other room he'd escaped from. The canvas beneath him felt almost luxurious, which was bizarre.

Bucky could feel a presence sitting at the other side of the room, and once his vision clears, he turns his head to look who it was.

As one would expect, it was Steve, sitting at the feet end of the large bed Bucky was laying on. He had a towel draped over his shoulders, and was wearing his shirt open. Steve's hair was also damp, indicating he'd taken a shower. 

He had an unreadable look to his face, but Bucky could feel want emitting from him. 

Bucky had never been in a situation like this, and quite frankly, he'd preferred the times when people after him only wanted to riddle him with bullets.

Bucky looks around, and notes that he was back in Steve's bedroom, tied to his bed. 

That was a pretty unnerving thought, especially accompanied with the look he was giving; everything about the whole situation pointed on a more devious reason behind Steve's interest towards him, and quite frankly it freaked him out more than anything else had ever before. 

But, Bucky had learned ages ago to not show his fear in this situation as it would just edge monsters like him on. He kept his face blank, and shifted his gaze at the ceiling. 

 

"You're just full of surprises."  
Steve's voice was casual, but there was a lot hidden behind it, and Bucky knew if he'd look, he'd see that predatory stare on Steve's face again. 

The brunet says nothing nor moves however, just keeps his gaze to the ceiling.

"Brock was beaten pretty bad; were you always that strong and just holding back, or did the adrenaline give you extra edge?"

Steve did not sound concerned about his underling, rather, he sounded impressed by what he'd seen, even more so than before. And he was; Steve had actually stopped to just watch the fight for a moment, amazed at how ruthless Bucky could actually be.

It made him want to find a way to twist this thieving Magpie around his finger now even more than before, just so he could gloat to the world that he owned something as magnificent as Bucky.  
One could claim he was going a little crazy, and perhaps he was, but it was hard to resist the rush of thrills and excitement that coursed through his body when he just looked at the brown haired male.

"You just caught me at my low point, that all." The brunet comments casually, shifting his arms a bit, annoyed about the rope. His body hurt pretty bad overall, but the rope was fucking irritating.  
Steve rakes his gaze over Bucky's body openly, wanting to touch him really bad right now, but the man restrains himself, knowing not to give in to his inner desires that easily. 

It was pathetic. 

"Low point you say?" Steve questions while drying his hair a bit to have an excuse to look away from the thrilling being lying on his bed. 

"Rough couple o' months." Bucky comments not in the mood for a chat right now.

Steve hums at that, putting the towel back to his shoulders, and he gets up, walking to the bed, glancing over the man's body again with keen interest. Bucky snorts at him when he sees it and the blue eyes look back at him with lift eyebrow.

"If you gonna do something, do it, I ain't scared of you."

The mobster just laughs, thoroughly enjoying Bucky's stubbornness and blunt honesty. 

It was so....different from what he was used to.  
He'd rarely wanted anybody in this manner; usually it was for their skill, like Tony's hacking expertise, Barton's sharp eye, and Natasha's wide range of skills.

When it came to this man, Steve wanted him for something completely different, a reason that went deeper than anything else he'd ever wanted from any underling of his, any person he met.  
The fact this happened so fast was a little concerning, but he was too thrilled to care about that detail.

Usually, Steve could easily swoon any woman or man into his bed, but the fact Bucky was harder to wrap around his finger, it made the whole thing feel that much more exciting. Getting Bucky submit to him would feel like the biggest victory in years, but just the process of getting there thrilled the mafia leader alone, because he loved the thought of a challenge. 

Yes, he was probably going crazy, snapped by his boredom so that once something more interesting came by, he latched onto it like a bloodthirsty hound. Steve did not care though, he loved it.

The man leans over Bucky, slotting a knee between his legs. The brunet just glares at him not phased one bit by his pushy and persuasive behavior.  
Or if he was, he did not show it. 

Part of Steve wondered where his extreme control came from, but it did not matter, really. He brushes his lips over Bucky's jaw, flicking his tongue against his ear and nibbling at it, before leaning back up, smirking. The brunet’s face was still mostly blank, but he was clearly a tiny bit uneasy about Steve’s behavior.

"Oh trust me. I'd love to, but doing this now would not be fun."  
"Why?"  
"Because I want you to be wanting first, little Magpie; right now you are obviously too in control of yourself."

Bucky snorts at that, and then squeezes his eyes shut as he feels a bit of nausea and headache hit him. It was probably because of his head-wound. Steve hums, and then grabs his towel that was still damp with cool water, placing it over Bucky's eyes, knowing it would probably help with his nauseated state. 

"Plus, having you throw up on me would be unpleasant." He remarks as he gets up, and the brunet says nothing, clearly too preoccupied with his swirling stomach to reply. Steve rustles around, buttoning his shirt and fixing his hair, sparing glances at the man on his bed. 

Bucky lied completely still, the only indication that he was still awake was the way his hands twitched at times, and the way his nose scrunched as another wave of nausea hit him.

He walks back beside the bed, and tugs on Bucky's bindings. This makes the man tilt his head towards Steve, clearly questioning what he was doing.

"We can save this for later, shall we? I believe you are too unwell to try and sprint."  
Steve purrs at him as he unties Bucky's hands.  
The brunet brings his arms down to rub at his wrists, but doesn't move to get up.

"I would not count on that Rogers." He says matter of factly, gaining another laugh from Steve, who cannot stop himself from leaning down and letting his breath brush over Bucky's lips. The man beneath stiffens for a bit as he feels it, but he doesn't move away.

"Don't think we didn't secure the room instead. But if you do run, just know that I'll enjoy the chase, until I catch you again." 

This makes the brunet shiver a bit, and then he seems annoyed about doing so, making Steve smirk victoriously at him. Steve then pulls back, and heads out of the room, for he had business to deal with. 

 

 

"Are you serious? Didn't he try to attack you at least twice, boss? And did you bloody forget he almost fuckin' killed me! It's ludicrous to hire him for anything!" Brock protests after hearing the announcement regarding to Steve's plans for hiring Bucky. The blue eyes drift at him irritated, but the man did not falter this time. Rogers could make bigger men shake in their boots, but Rumlow was tired of his crazy antics. 

"Are you doubting my strength, Brock? I can prove it to you right here and now." There was an obvious threat in his voice, and most others looked at the scarred man, silently warning him to shut up before he'd end up on Steve's bad side again. 

"I doubt your sanity! I've been here for many years and done everything for this joint, but this is where I draw the line!" He growls at the man, who just looks at him dully.  
"I can understand you not wanting to dabble in some businesses, but hiring an obvious liability is crazy. I'm not stayin' on a sinking ship."

Weapons are drawn almost instantly, everybody else in the room pointing at him now, while Rogers just sighs rubbing his eyes. He wasn't surprised; Brock had always questioned some of his choices, and it had only been a matter of time before this would happen. 

The man doesn't seem bothered by the weapons pointed at him, just glares at Steve furious.  
The blond man gets up slowly, and walks past his table, face blank. His underlings drop the weapons once he was in line of fire, waiting what the head was going to do next. Brock just stood there, holding his head high despite his injured state. He was tired of covering for a crazy man who'd do ridiculous decisions based on his own whims and needs. 

Steve stops in front of him, towering over the man somewhat, measuring him from head to toe.  
Then, he kicks Brock across the room and trough the closed door without warning. The man stumbles to the floor in a heap, coughing out blood. His earlier injuries ached like crazy, but the man ignored it.

Others just watch, Barton a little horrified, Tony secretly glad and Natasha with a blank face.  
Steve's hands are still in his pockets as he walks to Brock and grabs him by the collar, yanking him off the floor somewhat. His expression was indifferent and cold, but the scarred man won't let himself get intimidated by it anymore. 

"Then I suppose I got no use for you anymore."  
He throws Rumlow hard against the floor, and nods at Tony and Clint.  
"Get rid of what he doesn't need an' throw him out."  
"The door or the bay?" Tony asks, and Steve shrugs, turning his back to Rumlow dismissively.  
"I don't care either way."

The two men glance at each other; it was the most humiliating thing Steve Rogers could do to someone; not even consider them worth killing. Rumlow was clearly furious about this, but did not resist as the two hauled him off the scene. 

"If you let him live he might try to avenge that." Natasha comments casually, but Steve just hums, clearly not too concerned about it.

"Even if I don't off 'im, somebody will now that he's branded a traitor." Steve comments casually, knowing full well that news of his firing would spread like wildfire underground. Steve had no time to care for Rumlow's antics; he was too preoccupied with his new reluctant recruit.  
"So what are you singing him up for exactly?"

"First, I want to hear exactly where our security system went wrong that enabled him to enter without being noticed." Steve states matter-of-factly, shuffling trough some notes on his desk. In truth, Steve already knew the answer to that question, but he needed to give Natasha a more satisfactory answer rather than this vague gut feeling in his stomach the man had.

As usual however, the woman could tell it wasn’t the truth that he gave her.

"Steve....what are you after really?"  
Natasha asks, this time with the tone she used when they were discussing in private.  
The blond looks up at her with an irritated frown now.

"That is none of your business Romanoff."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my first part of the first multi-chapter thing/series.   
> This one relatively short with only two chapters, but the second one will be longer, and will dive further into the past of the characters of this AU.   
> I might add more tags once I post the second part, depending on how it will turn out as I still need to polish it so to say.


	2. The fragile beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky starts to see past Steve's cold crack, and it starts causing emotional turmoil for them both. Also, Bucky's past creeps up on them, eventually putting the bird to a crossroad, where he has to choose which path to take.  
> To go, or to stay.
> 
> Also, protective Natasha is protective

It took Bucky almost a week to stop wanting to vomit all over the place; most of the days he spent lying on Steve's bed or a couch, not even bothering to try and run right now. The beating Steve had given him, even if it was short, surely did a number on him.

Talking about the mobster, he kept his wing tightly locked, and it was clear extra attention was spent watching the area. 

Each one of his top three underlings would pay a visit at least once per day, checking on his condition and bringing him food. Natasha was still frowning, clearly concerned about something, but remained civil. Tony was complaining about the whole thing, not understanding why their boss was so keen on keeping him there, and Barton was pretty okay, friendliest out of them.  
He never saw the scarface anymore, but figured it was because the dude didn't like him.  
The feeling was perfectly mutual, that's for sure.

Steve himself would not show up until late in the evening, usually having a stern, irritated face up until he got to lay his eyes on Bucky; that's when his posture relaxed, and a smirk crept on his face.

The brunet was pretty irritated, as he felt like a glorified bird trapped in a fancy cage. 

But he knew better than trying to sprint when in such a bad state, so he played the game for now. The good thing was that since he was already not feeling so hot, any withdrawal he had for lack of adrenaline in his system did not really matter as they just blurred in together with the rest.

Naturally, he was not allowed to sleep in the same room as Steve without being restrained, so they usually threw him into one of the smaller rooms - it was more of a closet with a sturdy lock and a bed for him now - and he would not be let out until Steve left his quarters.

Not that the blond was good at keeping him there; he pretty much came in every night to talk to him, or rather, taunt. It was more irritating than terrifying though.  
Steve was still being pushy, using any excuse he could to touch him, but Bucky could tell he was avoiding crossing a certain line, and it started to make the man think.

He was pretty much trapped there, and Steve could in theory do whatever he wanted, especially right now as he was still pretty weak, but for some reason the blond man preferred to try and woo him rather than just take what he wanted.

The brunet wondered if Steve had a similar adrenaline addiction, and was doing things the hard way because he enjoyed the challenge and the game, or because there was more to it than some shallow level of physical want. 

Plus....Bucky had to admit, he was kind of flattered by the attention, even if he'd never say that out loud. He was more used to people wanting him dead, than just seemingly wanting him.

The fact just seeing him made the usually stern and serious mob-boss grin like a maniac or laugh in a genuine manner made him feel kind of special.  
It wasn’t the first time somebody made him feel that way granted, but this was different kind of special; not the type where the person would chase him to the end of earths to murder his ass.  
No, this was something that Bucky wasn’t sure if the mob boss himself fully understood.

The brunet knew that was actually a huge problem; he probably should get out soon, before he starts actually growing attached to the man. Bucky could tell he was already kind of warmed up to him, as strange as it felt. 

The one fact he’d learned during this week of being stuck in this tiny shoebox of a room, was that Steve was different from most mobsters he knew.  
He did commit crimes, kill people and such, but based on their little chats he seemed to have some sort of moral code; Steve tended to keep stuff between him and the problematic person, not involving their families, and he refused to even consider owning brothels. Bucky had to admit, those made him seem more tolerable than other criminal heads he'd dealt with so far.

Plus...well...the guy was obviously handsome.  
There was no denying it.

All this made him honestly feel conflicted about Steve; he wasn't sure what to think exactly.  
Not to mention, Steve’s offer was tempting him more and more as time passed; not just for his adrenaline issue, but for the fact he’d probably be relatively safe from his pursuers under Steve’s wing.

But there was also a problem with that.  
Bucky wasn’t sure what exactly Steve wanted from him yet, what motivated him to act the way he did towards the brunet. Would he really bother keeping him around, or just kill him once he got bored again? Based on their chats, Rogers hated boredom. 

 

Suddenly, Bucky heard commotion from the room outside his door, and he snoops to the door, curious. Before he can peek out from the keyhole however, the door is slammed open, blinding him momentarily as it was bright outside. The red haired woman stood there, and her face was in a deep frown, lips in a tight line and for a moment it makes Bucky feel he did something wrong.  
“Come out, make yourself useful.”  
She commands, and tugs Bucky out of his room.  
The man looks around confused, and then spots what had her so agitated; Steve was lying on his bed, a stab wound to his abdomen, to which Clint was applying pressure to.

Bucky couldn’t really see the wound, but it seemingly bled pretty badly, and the man was pale.  
“What happened?”  
He asks, feeling his thoughts grind to a halt as an involuntary worry hits him, and he scrambles beside Barton, his paleness almost matching Steve now.  
“The guy we were having a deal with tried to flee with the stuff, and when boss stopped him, the fucker stabbed him.” Clint explains, focusing on keeping the wound pressed so it wouldn’t bleed so much.  
“Did you get him?” Bucky asks, almost as an afterthought.

“Yeah; shot him dead and got the stuff, but we had to rush here pretty quickly.” Barton explains.  
“Why not hospital?”  
Barton glances at him, probably confused about why he was out of his cage, let alone asking such questions. He cannot answer it though, as Natasha steps in, taking control over the situation.  
“Lift his legs up so he’ll have more blood going to his heart.” She instructs calmly, and Bucky shifts away from Barton to do just that, not exactly sure why he felt the need to listen to the woman. Steve was still conscious, but clearly too weakened to say anything as he just looks at Bucky tiredly.

“This looks worse than it is, but we better make sure he doesn’t bleed any further. It would have been better if the knife was left at the wound as it slows the blood flow.” Natasha explains, her calm state indicating that she’d dealt with this before.

“The guy pulled it out afterwards.” Barton comments, trying to keep Steve awake.  
“Woulda been better if you guys would have brought him to a hospital.” Bucky comments, gaining a hum from the woman who looks at him with lift eyebrow. She was clearly a bit surprised of his worry too.  
“Steve has a personal Doctor who lives nearby; I already sent Tony to fetch him.” Natasha informs Bucky, who just nods, having nothing to say to that.  
“The bleeding is at least slowing down already, but I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad sign.” Barton comments, making the woman look up at Steve’s face concerned. Bucky shifts away from his feet end too, appearing beside Barton, and grasps Steve’s hair without thinking, tugging on it slightly to gain his attention.  
“Hey. Don’t go an’ pass out on me; you still owe me an explanation or two.” He states, feeling bits of adrenaline enter into his bloodstream; this situation was making him agitated even if he didn’t want to admit it. The now slightly cloudy blue eyes turn to look at him, though Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if Steve was aware who was talking to him.  
“Come on now; this ain’t a way to go to the big bad boss I met.” Bucky keeps talking, his voice going quieter now. Abruptly, he realizes that neither of Steve’s goons was trying to pull him away from Steve which would have made sense. They just kept observing him quietly.  
Bucky ignores this for now, and just focuses on keeping Steve awake.  
“Hey, ya hear me? I swear I kick your ghost’s ass if you go and die over a stab wound.” 

Steve hums at that, an involuntary smile dancing at his lips.

 

Once the doctor arrives, the trio helps the shabby looking man out in treating their boss. Bucky sits at the corner, noting that now as they all were preoccupied, he could easily try and escape. Except, he did not want to, because Bucky wanted to make sure Steve would be okay.

He did not know why he had such an impulse right now, but Bucky just couldn’t bring himself to flee. Perhaps Steve’s minions were aware of this hence they didn’t bother watching him.  
Or, in hindsight of worrying over their boss, his escape did not really matter that much to them, even if it would go against Steve’s wishes.

Eventually, the man is done, and adjusts his glasses with a sigh. There was something inherently kind about this man, which made Bucky baffled that he was Steve’s doctor.  
Not to mention, everybody in the room treated the man with respect, even Steve obediently did as the man said, not complaining or trying to be in control like he usually was.  
The doctor himself did not seem phased by treating a mob-boss, indicating he and these guys went back a long time somehow.

“You should be more careful with yourself; I can patch you up only so many times.”  
Steve hums, gazing at the ceiling. He had some pain medication now, and his wound was dressed, and based on the relief in his underlings’ faces, the man would be okay.

“I suppose we should thank you.” Clint says suddenly, making Bucky look at him.  
“He was gonna be fine either way I recon; I just did what the lady told me since I’m a gentleman.” Bucky smirks at Natasha, who rolls her eyes at that remark. The doctor looks at Bucky curiously, and glances at Natasha with lift eyebrow.

“He’s…a rookie in training. Lacks manners.” The woman explains giving Bucky a stern look.  
The doctor just hums and nods. It wasn’t his business anyway.  
“He just needs to rest now and let the wound heal. If he has any….urgent business to deal with, I recommend you do it instead of him.”  
Natasha hums with a not and a genuine smile at the doctor.  
“Thank you Bruce, we appreciate your help.”  
The doctor just shrugs and then is escorted out by Barton.  
“You heard the doctor, boss; stay in bed.”  
Steve just hums, eyes closed now. He looked tired.  
“As for you…” Natasha turns at Bucky with a frown.  
“Let me guess? Back into my shoebox?” Bucky huffs out a sigh, and the woman smirks.  
“You learn fast.”  
He doesn’t bother arguing, still concerned for Steve, so he just lets Natasha put him in there.

 

Somehow, Bucky manages to get some sleep despite his irritating worry over Steve, so when the door opens and Steve slips in quietly, it was still sometime in the night, based on the darkness behind the door anyway.

"Didn’t your doc tell you to rest?" Bucky comments as the man shuffles to sit at the feet end of the bed. He was clearly still weakened given how he had to take support from the walls as he walked there.

Steve says nothing to Bucky’s question, just watches him quietly. 

It was unusual, as normally the mobster would have a snarky remark to offer as a response. Then again, if he was still on painkillers it probably slowed his thinking.

Bucky props himself up to his elbow, moving slowly as his head was still a little dizzy, and notes that Steve was not smiling this time.  
He looked tired which wasn’t surprising, and had a slight frown on his face.

"What? Somebody stole your stuff again?"  
Bucky asks, a bit confused by his unusual silence.

The blond shakes his head, then shifts closer to grasp his, and slowly unties the bandage around it. He tilts Bucky's head gently by grasping his chin, noting that the wound had closed and already healing fairly well. 

He then tugs Bucky to sit upright, beside him, and proceeds to mingle his fingers into the brown locks, combing through them. The brown mop still had some knots on it, and when Steve's fingers hit one, it jolted Bucky's head a bit painfully, making him groan. The blond simply uses his hands to untie the knots, rubbing the soft hair in his fingers. 

The touch was different from the playful, taunting ones Steve usually did, and the air that hangs around him was also different from the usual presence. Maybe it was the drugs in his system, or the aching, but something was mellowing down his usual aura. 

It was so weird that Bucky started to wonder if he was dreaming now.  
Except, the fact his body still ached pretty badly indicated this wasn’t a dream, and the mobster was just having some really weird affectionate moment. 

“You didn’t have to do anything.” Steve comments softly after a moment, still playing with his hair. Bucky hums, noting that there was a hint of a question in Steve’s tone.  
“Yeah, if you think I did it because your tactics are working, think again; I just did it ‘cause Romanoff’s scary if she wants to be.”  
He half expected Steve to latch onto the fact he admitted the woman scared him, but Steve just chuckles, brushing his nose against Bucky’s temple.  
“Yes, she is.”

Due to their position and Steve reaching behind him to untie Bucky's hair, the brunet had to tilt his head forward towards Steve, and he could feel the man's breath brush against the top of his head.  
Eventually, the blond was just massaging his scalp gently, avoiding poking at the wound, and it actually felt pretty good, making Bucky sigh involuntarily. 

He feels Steve's mouth brush against his temple this time, but like with everything else, the touch lacked the usual taunting from it.

"Your wound's healing."

Steve comments softly, a hand slipping down to caress Bucky's back. The brunet just nods a bit, suddenly not wanting to say a word. Something about this moment felt really fragile, and he did not want to break the strange trance Steve seemed to be in.  
It was probably the painkillers making him act like this, but Bucky couldn’t be sure. 

The blond man hums again, tracing his nose down Bucky's jawline, brushing his lips against the man's neck. The kiss lacked the usual restrained heat from his teasing, and sort of just was there.  
It felt nice regardless, and then Bucky slapped himself mentally for thinking so.

"I have to say, I am a little unhappy; now I have to return the favor."  
Steve whispers into his ear, and the brunet grunts, shifting back a bit to look at Steve in the eyes.  
“I don’t need any favors from you.” He remarks snippily, but it was kind of hard for him to keep acting so tough when Steve looked sort of like he was ready to fall asleep right there, and was just smiling at him softly, no devilish intent behind it.

“Well, at least we should get that mop of yours cleaned; I noticed it has dried chunks of blood in it.”  
Bucky lifts his hand up, scratching his hair a bit irritated. Steve was right, he knew there were some stains on it, but he hadn’t been allowed to take a shower yet.

“Let me help with that, will you?” The blond whispers softly, grasping the tattooed hand combing through the brown locks irritated, and kisses it gently. The touch was soft, and kind of…. adoring in a sense. It was not like Steve hadn’t made it clear he was intrigued by Bucky before, but this one felt more genuine than anything before it.

Steve's sudden request - yes, it was a request because his voice lacked the usual ordering tone - caught Bucky off guard, and he looks at Steve a little surprised. The man just looked at him with a soft look, thumb caressing Bucky’s knuckles. Normally he would have told Steve to fuck right off, and he probably should right now, but… there was something strange in the blond man’s expression Bucky could not ignore. There was some sort of cautious hope, almost if Steve hoped he’d agree to it, but feared that he’d get rejected.  
Why would Steve care, he could do whatever he wanted in his house.

Maybe it was the fact he desperately needed a bath, or maybe his own slight adrenaline high from earlier was making him also not think straight; against the warning signals his instincts and generally common sense gave him, Bucky nods.

Steve looks at him a little surprised, but then smiles and gets up carefully. Bucky allows Steve to pull him off the bed, and escort him to the bathroom. The brunet had not seen Steve's private bathroom yet, but as usual it was bigger and fancier than the small one he'd used before. It even had a fucking pool and a hot tub in it. 

"Jesus Christ, you mobsters and your over the top taste." Bucky cannot stop but comment as he sees it, only gaining a slight amused hum and a soft kiss to his cheek, that almost startled the man, but Bucky hid most of his surprise. 

If this was some sort of game, he was not gonna let Steve get the better of him that easy.

The water was soothingly warm, but Bucky could not quite relax as he was wondering what Steve was up to. The man slipped in after a moment, and his hands reach for the brunet locks, rubbing the shampoo into Bucky's scalp gently to get rid of the nasty bits of caked blood. The brunet could feel the heat radiating from Steve's bare form right behind him, but he chose not to look. 

Eventually, Steve's hands slide down to his hips, just tracing some circles there idly while his nose brushed against the back of Bucky's neck. The brunet was still confused where this was coming from; it wasn't the barely restrained heat and want he usually sensed from the mob boss, this was something gentler, and much more fragile. 

If Steve was doing some sort of mind-game right now, it was sort of working as Bucky had to reluctantly admit, the soft, affectionate touches felt nice. He hadn’t had something like that in ages, and couldn’t really bring himself to tell Steve to stop.

After a moment, Steve shifts to bring Bucky under the water, washing the soap off his hair, stream of bubbles running down Bucky's body as it left his locks. The brunet had kept his hands to his sides for now, but brings them up now to sleek back his hair himself, feeling the blonde’s arms slowly snake around his waist.

For a man who was usually pretty aggressive and straightforward, Steve felt almost hesitant right now, which was probably the reason Bucky’s guard was lower than usual. As strange as it was, he sensed no threat from the man. 

The brunet doesn't resist as he's pulled against the warm mass behind him, and only shivers lightly as he feels soft lips trace his neck and shoulder, tasting the now soap-free water off his skin. 

"Do you always get this cuddly when high on painkillers?” Bucky asks quietly, hands now resting on top of Steve's. He was still half-convinced Steve was plotting something, but the same time…he couldn’t really comprehend what acting like this would achieve. If anything, being this docile should be humiliating to somebody like Steve.

Plus, it felt kind of good, and Bucky was guiltily indulging in the sensations.

The blond says nothing, just tightens his grip around Bucky, adding a bit more pressure to the kiss against his neck. Bucky could now feel the heat creep back on it, and while part of him is warning him to push Steve off, his addiction starts creeping in now as the touch felt kind of thrilling. He tilts his head to the side lightly, making Steve's whole body shudder, and his teeth nip at the soft skin with new kind of interest. 

The brunet could feel the warm body press against him more, and he had a feeling he should probably tell Steve off before this escalated into something he'd probably regret. It was just kind of hard to think straight when whatever Steve was doing catered to his addictions in a strange way. 

Bucky lets out a surprised yelp, as Steve all of a sudden turns him around and kisses him fiercely, pushing the man against the wall.  
Bucky almost makes out another embarrassing noise, and plants a hand on Steve's chest to push him off now scolding himself for falling into the trap, but then he tastes something else in the kiss that did not seem normal.

There was something salty in the water. 

As the blond man moves back a bit to let him breathe, forehead still resting against his, Bucky suddenly realizes there were tears prickling in his eyes. It was such a shock to see, that he forgets to try and push Steve away, allowing him to kiss Bucky again with the same heated hunger. 

The brunet's hand slips away from his chest, behind Steve's head, cradling the back of his neck and feeling the soft patch of hair there. When he starts kissing back, the blond lets out a small pleased groan, plastering him further against the slippery wall. 

It still tasted salty, and Bucky could feel Steve’s breath shake a little.  
Then, Steve suddenly flinches and pulls away from him, holding his injured side.  
Some bits of red were dripping into the canvas again, and Bucky feels his heart skip a beat as he pales a little.

“For fuck’s sake! This is why the doc told you not to move around!” He rushes to support Steve before he collapses to the floor, and manages to bring him out of the shower, resting him to the floor near the pool and propping his legs up with a towel.  
Steve just breathes in deeply, rubbing his eyes.  
Bucky just remains seated beside him, holding a hand against his neck to feel Steve’s pulse. At least that was still relatively calm, which was good.  
After a moment, Steve’s body relaxes again, and it seems the bleeding had not been as big of a deal as Bucky had thought, as after just a few drops it stopped.  
The brunet releases a relieved sigh as he slumps back, crossing his legs and rubbing his eyes irritated.

“You always this much of a dumbass?”  
He questions, and Steve hums quietly, gaze fixated at the ceiling for now.

"Why do you care?”  
It was a good question.  
A question Bucky didn’t really have an answer for.

After a moment of silence, Steve finally feels stable enough to prop himself up, but Bucky wraps an arm around his shoulders regardless, supporting him.  
The blond releases a deep sigh, resting a lot of his weight against Bucky for a moment, enjoying the skin contact.  
“….Hey.”  
Steve glances up at him with lift eyebrow, and Bucky bites his lip, unsure now.  
“What happened exactly? Is it…normal for you to get stabbed and nearly pass out like this?”  
Steve gazes at him for a while, and then turns his gaze away, shaking his head lightly.  
“I was….distracted.”  
“By what?”

Steve shakes his head, eyes gazing somewhere afar.  
“It’s an anniversary. I don’t usually do business during this day because I will be distracted.”  
Bucky wasn’t sure why Steve was telling him this, but part of him felt that his painkiller dosage was making him chatty. 

“Anniversary?” Bucky asks softly, rubbing circles into Steve’s back with his hand without really thinking of doing it. It was just… he could sense some sort of emotional pain radiate from Steve now, based on his sorrowful tone and the way his gaze was now heavy, but not with sleep.  
“My ma. She died this day.”

Oh.  
That kind of loss, Bucky could understand all too well.

“….What happened? Was she killed?”  
Steve snorts at him, but still doesn’t look at Bucky.  
“Nobody’s born a monster, Bucky; she was sick. Weak immune system; caught a flu one day and it didn’t go away.”  
“Oh, sorry.” Bucky bites his lip, feeling a little bad for assuming that her demise had something to do with Steve’s current lifestyle.  
This info also made him wonder if Steve had at least in the past been a sickly kid himself, but decides not to ask. It was better to not push his luck, plus given how mournful Steve looked when thinking about his mum, Bucky would have felt bad about bombarding him with personal questions.

After another moment of silence, Bucky noted that Steve had begun shaking a little, so without thinking yet again – it was like he was trying to break some sort of personal record – Bucky tugs him closer carefully, letting the man slump and rest against him properly, head on his shoulder.  
The blond man takes in a shaky gasp of air, clearly struggling to not start crying. Bucky keeps rubbing his back, leaning his head slightly against Steve’s.

“I suppose I know how that feels. Lost my mum too, it was rather…sudden as well.”

Steve glances up at him, probably a little surprised to hear Bucky share something personal like this. Then again, Steve had done that just now, so it was only fair of him to do the same.  
“….She would have probably been proud to see how smart her kid grew to be.”  
The genuine compliment was kind of surprising, but it felt nice regardless.  
Bucky had to disagree with that, and he hums, looking aside sadly.

“Nah. She’d be disappointed at what I’ve become now.”  
“The addiction thing?”  
Bucky pauses, and then nods a bit. 

Yeah, it was better to let Steve believe that was the part he was referring to.

Steve hums thoughtfully, then shifts a bit, leaning against his own arm now, body tilted towards Bucky. They were still very close to one another, but the brunet doesn’t feel the urge to back away, just let Steve comb through his hair again.  
“I suppose my ma would be on the same boat; she always kept tellin’ me not to get involved with the bad guys.”

“Behold, you’re the biggest bad guy in the house now; although I suppose it’s a loophole since she didn’t explicitly state that you shouldn’t become one yourself….” Bucky shuts up, realizing that perhaps he should not joke about this, but the blond man doesn’t seem bothered at all.  
Steve just chuckles a bit at that, and then suddenly tilts his head against Bucky’s, making the brunet’s thoughts halt for a second.

“Sometimes the best way to keep the good people safe is to be the baddest in the block.”  
Bucky remains quiet; Steve did have a point with that.

For a moment they just sit there like that, with Steve petting his hair, head pressed against his.  
Then, the blond leans closer, brushing his lips over Bucky’s. It was a very chaste touch, but it sent shivers down Bucky’s spine. 

Before he could stop himself, he grasps Steve’s face and pushes their lips firmly together, making the man freeze a bit in surprise. After a second however, he starts responding to the kiss, until Bucky finds himself being pushed back against the floor slowly as Steve leans over him.  
He doesn’t resist however, just brings his arms around Steve’s neck, tugging him closer.

The blond still keeps his weight off Bucky, but his hands sneak down Bucky’s sides, resting on his hips. Suddenly, the brunet tugs him down against him, deepening their kiss further.  
Bucky did not know why he was doing it, but given the thrills surging in his body right now, that probably affected it right now.

Plus, it just felt so damn good.

Steve is still cautious, clearly a little confused about Bucky’s behavior, but as his touch grows hungrier, it’s clear the blond is finding it hard to resist.

Eventually he gives in and presses Bucky tightly against the floor, parting his lips and kissing the man beneath with new kind of fervor. The brunet lets out a slight gasp, his hand raking down Steve’s back now.

Eventually, the Steve’s lips sneak away from his mouth and down his jaw and neck.  
The brunet tilts his head back a little, giving Steve more room without even thinking.  
His body was shivering lightly, and he pressed against Steve involuntarily, high on his own hormones now. His hand sneaks back up to the back of the man's neck, fingers massaging the soft skin back there. The touch made Steve shiver a bit and he presses against Bucky harder, wanting to have as much skin contact as he could. 

Then, as he feels heat surge down his spine and into his groin, Steve suddenly pushes himself off from Bucky and gets up abruptly, jumping into the pool he had, trying to gather his bearings. 

The brunet watches after him from the floor confused. His body was protesting against the loss of Steve’s heat against him now, so he sighs and pushes himself up, rubbing his eyes.

As Steve eventually comes out from underwater, Bucky was sitting on the ledge now, tattooed arm resting against his knee. He was watching Steve with a questioning look.

The blond could not stop himself from sliding his gaze down Bucky's body with want tugging at his gut. He was ridiculously attractive just physically alone, but that was not the main reason Steve was fixated on him.

The fact Bucky seemed to be… responding to his interest somehow, it was alarming.  
Especially, because Steve wasn’t quite sure if it was true, or if Bucky was just playing the game, using his tactics against him. Something like that would not be anything new to Steve.

"Steve…." Bucky whispers quietly, brushing through his hair.

The whole bathroom was pretty warm, but Bucky's skin was prickling still, and he shivers lightly.  
Steve says nothing, just dives back underwater, swimming at the other end of the pool. Then he hears the water splash, and realizes that the brunet had jumped in too, swimming to him. Steve just watches him emerge from the water, floating beside him, crossing his arms over the ledge as he looked at him. While the water was shallow enough at this end for their feet to reach the floor, Bucky kept his floating.

The brunet examines him for a moment, as if trying to decide what to do. Finally, he sighs and licks his lips, turning his gaze away. 

"I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have done that abruptly. I don’t know what went into me.”

Steve refuses to look at him, fearing that he’d lose his control again if he did. He just gazes at the further away wall at the other side of the pool. Bucky hums, and brushes through his wet locks again. 

“Steve…can you be honest with me for a second?”

The blond remains quiet, gaze still aimed at the wall.

“This whole thing… you keepin’ me locked here, the stuff you say and do…am I some sort of toy to you?”

Steve feels something twist unpleasantly in his gut; that’s what it was, technically, but somehow the thought made him feel sick. Sick in a way he could not put on the medication and his wounds.

“….Or, are you just… lonely?”  
Bucky could see the way the mobster stiffens, lips in a tight line.  
He refuses to look at Bucky, but the brunet had a feeling that his latter option was more likely, even if Steve didn’t want to admit it.

Then, he suddenly shifts closer, and tugs Bucky into his arms, making him stiffen for a second. The moment his lips press against the brunet’s however, Bucky relaxes involuntarily and wraps his arms around Steve, kissing him back with the same ferocity.

Their hands roam over each other with new kind of urgency, and Steve tugs on Bucky's hair, momentarily forgetting the injury he still had there. The brunet groans a little as it hurts, but he was honestly enjoying it right now, circling his legs around Steve to almost cling to him as they kissed.  
This was probably a crazy thing to do, but Bucky couldn’t help himself right now.

Part of him – the part he probably should not be listening to – felt extremely thrilled and flattered about the idea that someone like Steve was attracted to him, and it fueled Bucky’s adrenaline addicted side better than anything else before it.

The blond kept his feet firmly at the bottom of the pool, though it was hard not to sway due to the water's buoyancy and the warm weight rubbing against him in his arms. 

Eventually, Bucky slips away from him, but his eyes had gone dark now. He pushes Steve up from the pool, making him sit on the ledge with his legs spread and dangling in the water.

The blond cannot stop his body from shuddering now, knowing what the brunet was up to.  
Part of him ringed warning alarms into his ear that he should not let Bucky do this, but he was overwhelmed with his want right now, perhaps because of his weighed mind.

Bucky's tattooed hand creeps across Steve's thigh, and then wraps its fingers around him, giving him a hard tug. The blond licks his lips, watching keenly as Bucky shifts up from the water somewhat, reaching for him and running his tongue across Steve's length. He mouths the tip a bit, rubbing Steve with his thumb the same time, making the man breath harsher now.  
As the brunet takes him in properly and sucks, Steve's eyes slide closed, and he tilts his head to his chest, panting heavily.

Bucky's mouth was warm, his tongue devious against him, and Steve cannot stop himself from moaning lightly, as Bucky pulls back a bit, licking his tip with a devilish smirk. 

Steve shifts his weight, so he was leaning back against his arms a little, opening his eyes to look at the way Bucky's lips stretched around him. It had been such a long time since he'd done anything like this, and this felt almost as good as the thrill of a chase when it came to this man. 

It was clear Bucky was experienced with this, as he soon found just the right spots to press his tongue against, seeking out the best ways to make Steve shudder and feel good. 

The blond man manages to lean back up, and grasp the brown hair, forcing Bucky to take him in deeper. The brunet lets out a slight groan as he feels the tug on his hair, and rolls his eyes a bit, but obliges, sucking Steve harder. 

The blond keeps his gaze down, watching Bucky do it, feeling pleasant chills travel across his body, and he keeps grabbing the brown, wet strands, keeping him in place, while his fingers massage Bucky's scalp with slow, heavy touch. 

When he finally comes, Steve squeezes his eyes shut, fingers tightening in Bucky's hair, and his hips jerk forward with a pleased growl. Bucky laps it all in obediently, until Steve goes soft again, and pushes himself off from the man.

Steve lets Bucky move away, dropping his hand to the floor beside him, and just looks at the brunet with a heated look.

Bucky licks his reddish lips, clearly aroused himself now. 

Steve doesn’t say anything, just combs through his hair with a heavy hand.  
Then, he pulls Bucky off the water, and actually manages to cradle him into his lap and get up. Bucky tenses slightly and looks up at him with slightly widened eyes, but Steve just carries him out of the bathroom, biting back the aching to his side. 

He lays Bucky down to his bed now, kissing him as he did so.

"M’gonna make you feel so good." Steve whispers in his ear as he straddles the man beneath, rutting against him lightly. Bucky lets out a slight gasp, but he looks up at Steve, eyes darkened with want.  
He had no idea why he was doing this, but the brunet did not care; his slight aches and nausea were gone right now thanks to this new kind of feeling in his body, so he just let’s Steve do what he wanted.

It was stupid and illogical, but he liked how it felt.

As Steve kisses him again, Bucky responds to it hungrily, a little out of his mind due to hormonal rush. He could feel Steve grind against him slightly, making his arousal worse. 

The blond man breathes out sharply as he pulls back from the kiss abruptly, his eyes sliding down Bucky’s form approvingly. When he scoots back, Bucky could tell he was still watching his wound, and a slight bit of worry tugs at him involuntarily, making him prop himself up for a moment to look at Steve concerned.

“I’ve been through worse injuries.” Steve comments as he notices the glance and kisses Bucky’s stomach, making the man beneath shiver again. 

The blond man then slides his hand up Bucky's leg, up to his thigh, and wraps his fingers around the man's already hard member, stroking it slowly with his warm palm while still placing kisses to his abdomen. Bucky lets out a slight gasp as he feels the touch, and slumps back against the pillows again.

The man gives him another slow stroke, and Bucky's eyes slide closed involuntarily, as he tilts his head back, lips falling open with a moan. Steve repeats this couple of times, and then brushes a thumb over Bucky's tip, before leaning down and licking him. 

That sent shivers run across the brunet's body, and his hips twitch off the bed as he lets out another moan. Steve sucks him mercilessly, letting his tongue swirl around Bucky's arousal, and then drops him out of his mouth abruptly to let his breath brush over the extra sensitive member. 

"Steve…." Bucky breathes out, then gasps as Steve bites him, not hard enough to actually spill blood, but enough to send a sharp jab of pain course up Bucky's spine.

"Shhh, just relax and let me make you feel good, Magpie.”  
Steve purrs at him, barely able to contain the fervency of his tone.  
He takes Bucky back in, sucking him harsh, then swiping his tongue across his length, flicking the tip. All this time, the brunet squirms under him, panting heavily as slight moans escape his lips.  
Bucky’s arm reaches up behind him, and he grasps the headboard, trying to somehow ground himself not to get completely lost in the intense pleasure.

It had been such a long time since he’d done anything like this, so the waves racking his body almost hurt as he wasn’t used to it.

After a few more moments, Steve could feel Bucky starting to tense under him, clearly aching for release. He sucks harder, hands holding Bucky’s hips down to keep him against the bed.  
Eventually, the brunet cannot hold it and his body spasms uncontrollably as orgasm washes over him. Steve swallows all of his release, and then licks away the leftovers, before scooting back up to kiss the trembling man softly.

“You taste good.” He hums, nuzzling against Bucky’s cheek as the man just pants beneath him.  
Steve reaches up, unclenching Bucky’s fingers from the headboard, kissing the slightly reddened fingers. 

“Steve….” Bucky whispers again, his voice sleepy.

Without a word, Steve shifts away and tugs them both under the bedsheets, tugging Bucky under his chin. The brunet dozes off pretty quickly, snuggled against him.  
Steve felt warm, warmer than he had in ages. The aching of his injury was still there, but it was barely noticeable right now, as he breathed Bucky’s scent in with a satisfied smile.

As time passes however, the pleasantries of their earlier actions start washing away, replaced with a slight sick feeling in his stomach. He knew all too well that he was walking on thin ice now.  
He almost wanted to laugh bitterly at Bucky’s question back in the pool.

It was amusing, because usually it had been the other way around; Steve had been the toy for others to use for their needs, only to be thrown out later when he became uninteresting.  
Because of this, he’d sworn to himself never to grow too attached to anybody, but as he now looked down at the sleeping man in his arms, Steve could not stop but feel a little afraid.  
Bucky tugged on his heartstrings in a way nobody had done in ages.  
He was brave, tough and clearly intelligent, and Bucky was not afraid to speak his mind to Steve; he did not cover in fear and respect like most, it was brilliant. 

At first it had just been a fun game to play, but after tonight….  
Steve shifts up, careful to not wake Bucky up, and rubs his eyes as he feels slight panic and frustration tug in his gut.

No, he couldn’t let himself be swoon by this little bird. 

Bucky was supposed to be something he used to ward off his boredom, perhaps get some work done that more incompetent men couldn’t. 

Nothing more, nothing less.

He had to make that clear to Bucky, before things would get out of hand. 

 

"It seems majority of your wounds are healed. Perhaps Steve will finally explain you what he wants you to do for him exactly."

Bucky snorts at the woman's words; after last night he had a feeling he knew what Steve wanted from him.

This morning had been a little awkward, as Natasha had come in casually, seemingly not surprised to find Bucky slumped in Steve’s bed, naked. She hadn’t said anything, just gotten him his freshly washed clothes, before checking on his injuries.  
Steve had probably told her about the little surprise lying in his bed.

"Not going to lie; a lot of us question why he keeps you here. One of us even left because of it."  
"Who?"  
"Rumlow."  
The brunet frowns; so that was the real reason he hadn't seen the scar-face around. After a moment he just shrugs at that, allowing Natasha to reapply the bandage around his torso. The wound was nearly healed by now, but it was best to keep it there for few more days.

"Never liked the guy."

The red haired woman hums, and looks up at Bucky with a serious frown.  
"What?" Bucky asks, only to be thrown against the bed again, a blade on his throat.  
He looks up at Natasha a bit surprised, but then just smirks.  
"While I've met more eager women before..."

"Quiet." She orders him with an icy tone, and the man shuts up, frowning now.  
"What do you really want from Steve?" She questions, staring down at him while the knife presses against his throat. The man just looks up at her with a bored look.  
"What does HE want from me is more accurate of a question."  
"Don't. You can perhaps fool others here, but I know what you are."

Swiftly, Bucky grasps her hand and throws her off him, now holding the knife himself as he restrains the woman against the wall by holding his arm against her throat. They both just glared at each other, clearly looking for a sign of weakness.

"I said this already, n' I'll repeat myself one last time; what does ROGERS want from me, is the actual question." Bucky growls lowly at her, adding more pressure to her throat, making the woman cough a bit. 

He then backs away, and throws the knife back at her as he gets off the bed.  
"Gotta hand it to you; you're pretty damn strong woman." He then flashes a smirk at her, and Natasha just coughs again, glaring at him as she stands up too.

"The way you can control yourself so well; the stealth skills and brutal mauling of Rumlow; Steve might not believe me entirely, but I know the truth."  
She slips the knife away under her clothes, and crosses her arms, looking at him serious.

"You're from the Red Room Syndicate like me. An assassin."

The brunet just watches her quiet for a moment, measuring the woman from head to toe.  
"I don't buy for a second that you came here by chance to steal some drugs; you came here on a mission." She adds, but Bucky keeps his face stoic, not giving away anything.

"Maybe you shoulda talk about your suspicions with your boss." He then comments casually, brushing through his hair. 

"I did."  
Bucky grins lightly at her.  
"Didn't believe you, doll?"

Natasha smacks him hard across the face, and then grasps his collar fiercely.  
"If you try to lay a finger on Steve, I will personally hunt you down."  
"Oo somebody's testy; got a crush on your boss?"  
Bucky didn’t really know why he was taunting the woman.  
Well, aside from the nice spike of adrenaline coursing in his body her hostility gave.

The woman just lets go of him and shoves him forward from the room.  
"Move it; Steve wants to see you."

 

It turns out, Steve wasn't alone in his office; there was a bald man with glasses sitting on a chair in front of his desk, looking spooked. There was a blueprint of the mansion in front of him, and based on the way Steve was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed and glaring at the man, the nerdy guy was probably in deep shit. 

Steve lifts his gaze to look up at them, and his eyes stay a second longer on Bucky's lips. The man feels a hint of something warm tickle down his spine. Except, as he looks at the man’s face properly, he sees the way Steve was looking at him coldly. Steve turns his head away, but the brunet could tell that despite his calm demeanor, Steve was somehow pissy at him too.  
What the hell did he do?

"This is Jasper Sitwell. He installed the security system into this mansion." Steve introduces the man to Bucky, pointedly avoiding looking at him.

The brunet glances at the nervous man, who glances at him in turn, probably wondering who the new face was.

Steve shifts off his chair, and walks to the other side of the table, placing a hand on the backrest of Sitwell's chair, turning it towards Bucky.  
"Why don't you show him how his supposedly up-to-date system failed?"

Bucky caught on immediately what Steve wanted; he had not exactly explained how he'd sneaked through the mansion. The mob boss was now glaring at him, following his every move and shift in posture intently, and the gaze lacked the fervent heat bubbling right beneath the surface. It was a stare of a proper mafia boss, who wanted his underling to do what he told them to without question, or you'd suffer the consequences. 

On the contrary to what most people felt in this situation, Bucky was thrilled, although he felt a little irritated about it; Steve’s cold stare catered to his addiction again in an uncanny way, stronger than anything else had before he’d met Steve Rogers. It was probably a bad sign. 

Plus, he was still kind of confused on why Steve seemed to be upset with him.

The brunet walks forward once Natasha pushes him, and looks down at the blueprints. He'd actually seen these before; he'd used a copy to get in the mansion in the first place, and plan his route. Bucky leans his palms against the table, looking through the paper in front of him.

"It's pretty good, but the problem is this place has a lot of crooks and crannies, blind spots the cameras cannot register."

He talks casually, skimming trough the plans with his eyes. He could feel two pair of intense eyes at his back; Natasha's cold, warning glare, which was a bit unnerving honestly, and Steve's examining one, that could not stop itself from drifting off at times to check his frame out.  
That one was thrilling, but Bucky kept it in. 

"Also...the system in the secret maze needs an upgrade: the moisture in the air has probably ruined some cameras there, and others may be lagging with their signal." Bucky glances over his shoulder, giving the group behind him a pointed look.

"I know, ‘cause I've dealt with this camera model before."

There was a hint of curiosity in Steve's eyes, but he keeps his stern facade up.  
"Then perhaps you can show me where the blind spots are, so we can do something about it."  
Sitwell comments nervously, gaining a cold glance from Steve, who then nods at Bucky.  
Honestly, Steve obviously knew about the issues, but he had to do this with the poor technician to prove his authority. 

The man grabs a pen, and recalls the route he'd taken a while back, as well as other spots he was aware of. 

He maps the spots fairly accurately, even showcasing exactly how wide the blind spots were. Once he was done, he shows the map to the slightly uneasy man, who adjusts his glasses.  
"I see...I suppose we did not take the unique layout of this mansion into account properly."  
Steve hums, making the man on the chair tremble lightly in fear and glance at him.

"Don't blame you; some people have a ridiculous taste that puts flashiness ahead of security."  
Natasha almost takes a step forward to smack him again, but Steve stops her by holding a hand up, keeping his now stoic gaze on Bucky.

Sitwell seemed rather baffled how the man dared to take a jab at Steve Rogers, and even more confused about how the man did not seem to react to it. 

"How long will it take to address this issue?" The mafia boss looks down at Sitwell with mild annoyance in his tone, like dealing with this issue was a chore for him.  
"U-uh, couple of days I recon, perhaps a week."

"Then get to it. And fast." Steve grunts at him, and then walks back to his desk, sitting down.  
Sitwell nods, muttering out another tense apology for their oversight, and bows before leaving, walking like a hellhound was after him. 

Once the door closes, Natasha gives Steve a pointed look.  
“You knew about these problems already, did you not?”  
Steve just hums, shrugging as he leans back in his chair, crossing his arms.  
He then drifts his gaze back to Bucky, as if trying to decide what to do with him next. It was actually pretty unnerving now, as the special treatment Steve had given him earlier was now gone for the most part. 

"Natasha, I need you to leave us alone."  
Steve’s calm order surprises them both, and the woman glances between Bucky and Steve concerned, but then chooses to do as Steve said.  
After the woman is gone, Bucky turns his head back to look at Steve, just sort of standing there, in the middle of his office, not knowing what the fuck he was supposed to do.

 

"The fuck did I do?” The brunet finally asks, not liking the cool aura Steve was emitting.

"You got a lot of nerve, I give you that.”  
Steve chilly tone made Bucky shut up, and he watches cautiously as the man gets up and paces towards him, face stoic, hands in his pockets. Steve stops few feet away from him, looking down at the brunet. It wasn’t as effective as it would be with other people given Bucky was almost as tall, but Steve had the way to make himself feel like he towered over others. 

“I don’t remember giving you permission to do that.”  
Bucky just stares at him baffled, and then start to understand what Steve was referring to.  
“Permission? For fuck’s sake, you were FINE with the whole thing last night!”  
Steve grasps his shirt collar, tugging him closer so they were face to face, one hand still in his pocket. His expression was cold. 

“I never asked you to touch me.”  
“Oh, now you have to specifically voice out what you want? So I suppose you’ve been giving me incorrect signals this whole time.” Bucky growls at him, eyes unwavering from the icy stare.  
Steve huffs and then shoves him back a bit, nearly making Bucky collide with a shelf. He turns his back to Bucky and paces to the window, looking outside for a moment. 

“As a subordinate, you have to know where your boundaries are; getting’ too personal with me can get your fingers cut off.” The threat was obvious in Steve’s tone, but Bucky was now too irritated to care. Why was Rogers suddenly this hostile with him? He’d been…he’d been fine with it last night.

Why was he suddenly acting like he hadn’t liked what Bucky had done for him?

“Then stop acting like you want me in your bed if that’s not even true!” Bucky hisses at him.  
“Oh, I do, but with my own terms.” Steve states casually, turning to look at him with a slight, cold smile. The brunet just stares at him, not knowing what to say.

He’d really thought Steve was different, but of course that wouldn’t be the case; it was clear to him now that yesterday’s affectionate behavior had been a ruse to get Bucky do as he wanted. 

The brunet felt humiliated now, wanting to smack Rogers hard.

He remains still however, and just glares angrily as Steve walks back to him, now grasping his hair instead, brushing it with a heavy hand before tugging on it tightly.

“I can’t have you tryin’ to get ahead of me, little magpie. That just won’t do.” He purrs at the man now, and Bucky hates the fact it makes his blood pump faster in his veins. 

So, he smacks the blond away from him by giving him a hard slap in the face like he’d wanted to do.

Steve doesn’t react much, just backs away slowly, brushing his reddened cheek.  
“That hurt.” He states casually, and Bucky almost wants to go again, but then there’s a knock on the door, and Steve shifts his attention to that.

“Boss, we got some business to deal with.” Tony’s voice called at the other side. The blond hums, eyes still at Bucky. He again had that satisfied feline look to him, and Bucky wants to smack him again in anger, but restrains himself.

“Tell Natasha to come here and bring our little bird back into his cage.” Steve calls out for Tony, and soon enough, the red haired woman arrives, grasping Bucky’s arm tightly and yanking him away. The brunet spares one last glance at Steve, and sees something flash in his eyes, before the man turns his attention to Tony; regret.

Now Bucky was more confused than ever.

 

Once Natasha brings him into his room, Bucky grasps her wrist, and the woman whips around, hand on her gun handle. When she sees Bucky’s face however, the woman relaxes and crosses her arms as Bucky let’s go of her wrist, giving him a questioning look.

“The fuck’s with your boss?”  
“What? Are you surprised that you aren’t so special after all?” The woman smirks at him, but Bucky just glares back at her irritated.  
"No, I mean he's gotta make up his mind if he wants to be sweet to me, or a fucking dick."  
Natasha lifts eyebrow at that, clearly waiting for him to elaborate on his frustration.  
“Does he always like to toy with people by using a story of his dead mum to make somebody do what he wants?”  
Natasha suddenly smacks his face hard, and forces him against the wall, now clearly furious.  
“Steve would NEVER use that as an excuse to anything he does. He loved his mother, so don’t you try to imply he’d stoop that low!” She snarls at him, before heading out and slamming the door locked behind her.

Bucky looks after the woman, baffled.  
If what she said was true…  
Then what the hell was Steve’s behavior about today?  
The brunet sighs and slumps at his bed, gazing the ceiling.

Steve was almost like Jekyll and Hyde, switching between sweet and near malicious within few seconds. The most conflicting part of this was that Bucky started to feel the vulnerable man he’d seen in the shower was more akin to what was hidden under the cold crack. 

Why this was conflicting, was because the only true proof Bucky had that spoke for it was his gut feeling. Everything else from physical evidence, people’s words and Steve’s behavior majority of the time indicated he was indeed a brute monster. 

But… Natasha didn’t seem to be lying.

Bucky could tell if somebody did. Or rather, he could not imagine her faking that much anger over it, given how calm she usually kept herself.

Which left him with questions again; if what he’d witnessed last night was more akin to genuine Steve Rogers, why was he now being a dick again, if he clearly…if he was fond of Bucky?  
It was a strange thought, but it was pretty clear Steve was, to some level.

He rolls on his belly, thinking about Natasha’s words. If what she said was true, there had to be a reason then why Steve switched back to full on asshole mode after their shared night.  
What the reason was, Bucky had no clue about.

He sighs and closes his eyes, trying to think this trough rationally and ignore this whole confusion about Steve for now; looking at the offer Steve had presented and still seemed to hold in the air, it had its pros and cons.

On the plus side, being under the wing of one of the most notorious mafia bosses could protect his ass from the people after him, and he wouldn’t have to worry about stuff like money and food.

On the minus side, Bucky did not like the way Steve was so…wishy washy towards him, like he couldn’t decide how to act. It would get frustrating to try and deduce what Steve was actually thinking about him. Plus, if he was just going to be a toy for Steve, it didn’t sit right with Bucky’s pride as a bloody human being. 

Not to mention, there was this whole issue of the man not really knowing shit about him, and the fact he was pretty wanted right now. Wanted dead that was, and if Steve would find out, he’d probably want Bucky dead too, just in case. 

The brunet huffs again, and sits up. He had no choice; it was clear as day that it would be better for him to leave as soon as he could. He just needed to wait for an opportunity.

 

Steve was sitting in his office; it was late in the night, but he couldn’t bring himself to head back to sleep. He couldn’t get Bucky’s disgusted look off his head, after he’d laid his cards in the table. Bucky had every right to be angry at him, and Steve had to do that; he could not let anyone get that close to him so easily.

Still, it had hurt like hell, to see that despise in Bucky’s eyes. Hell, the slightly throbbing knife-wound felt like a bee-sting compared to the sick feeling at the pit of his stomach right now.  
Steve sighs, pouring himself a glass of whiskey, just gazing at it quiet.

He had thought it was just that the man catered to his boredom, but it was clear there was more to it than that. Steve had never felt so bothered about telling someone off and reminding them of his superiority. He had plenty of people hate his guts like this, but when it was Bucky… it hurt more than it should.

Steve drinks his liquor, his mind helplessly drifting back to the night before; he had not felt like that in ages. It wasn’t just the act itself, it was the fact Bucky was the one he’d shared it with.  
He couldn’t stop but chuckle bitterly. 

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it was; Bucky had in fact made it out with something. It was clear that while the little bird was trapped in his mansion, he held something valuable of Steve’s hostage, not even knowing it.

The fact was Steve wanted Bucky into his bed again; he wanted him to stay, not just for occasional taunting or using his skills for his projects. He wanted Bucky to stay, because if he didn’t, he’d probably rip Steve’s heart out of his chest, like so many people had done before him.  
Steve just… didn’t want to go through that again. 

The man slams his drink to the table abruptly and stands up, gripping his table so hard his knuckles were white as he felt a strong ache in his chest. Steve did not realize he was crying until his eyes prickled, and the man lets out a frustrated growl and throws the table aside, breaking the glass on it in the process, and leaving a stain of whiskey on the carpet. For a moment he just stands there, shuddering, feeling his injury protest as it ached sharply again. 

Steve slumps to the floor, covering his face as frustrated tears ran down his cheeks. 

He hears the door burst open, and a familiar voices call out to him.

"Boss, are you alright?!" It was Tony, looking around wildly for threats. Soon enough the trio realizes however that nobody else was there, Natasha orders the two men to leave, before walking to Steve and crouching in front of him.

"What happened?" She asks gently, squeezing his shoulder.  
Steve just looks at her with a defeated expression, unable to say a word.  
".....Is this about Bucky?" The woman asks finally, her voice cautious.

The way the blond man's breathing hitched told her that she was correct, and the woman sighs, grasping his hand. It seemed that her worst fear was starting to be true.  
"He asked me if the story about your mum was used as a ruse to get what you want.”  
The woman comments quietly. She had honestly wondered why Bucky had brought such a thing up, but seeing the way Steve was now, she finally understood it.

Steve glances at her, but says nothing, fearing his voice might break if he did. The man just shakes his head instead, too tired to even be angry about Bucky's implications. if anything, it made sense the brunet would assume that after the show he put up for him earlier.

The woman examines the man with a concerned frown on her face; Steve was probably his weakest right now, and if things got this bad, it meant Natasha had a serious problem in her hands. He could not recall the man getting this bad with it before.

"Steve...." She huffs tiredly, and the man looks up at her with a helpless look, that indicated he did not know what to do right now.

"Come here.” The woman tugs the man into a gentle hug, petting his hair.

"Is that why you suddenly shifted your attitude towards him? You got scared.”  
The blond man just nods, still shaky. For a moment they just sit there quietly, as Natasha tries to choose her next words carefully, not wanting to upset Steve further.

"Steve. You need to stop doing things like this if they only make you hurt yourself." Natasha scolds him gently, still petting the short blond hair.  
"I can’t…help it."

Steve whispers quietly, now his arms wrapping themselves around Natasha too. His whole form was shaking badly, and he tried his hardest to pull himself back together.  
"Would be easier if it could just be you." He comments softly after a moment.

"It would be, but you don't swing that way." She agrees with a sad smile. 

For a moment they just sit there in silence and Natasha keeps petting his hair, comforting the weakened leader.

This, this right here was one of Steve's biggest weaknesses that only Natasha was aware of; Steve was a hard man to get to, but once he fell, he fell fast and hard.  
People had taken advantage of this in the past hence Rogers had attempted to harden himself, not to let anybody close like that ever again. But it was clear to the woman he'd tripped once again, and didn’t know what to do with himself. What made the situation more troubling was just how bad it seemed to be. This was the first time Natasha had seen Steve slump to his floor like this after becoming a leader himself; she would have understood it in the past when he was a rookie, but once Steve had become a boss, he wouldn't usually let himself crumble down this bad with his feelings, not even in front of Natasha.

This magpie had sharp claws and a beak, even moreso than anybody expected.  
He'd actually managed to tear down Steve's defenses this bad. 

"We should just kill him."  
Steve looks at her sharply instantly, but she tries to reason with him.  
"That way we could swipe this whole thing under the rug, you wouldn’t have to spend sleepless nights pondering what to do with this."  
Steve shakes his head. 

"I can’t do that Nat; I just….can’t."

Natasha leans back to look at Steve with a sigh. This is why dealing with Steve’s crushes was hard; once he did fall past that point, it was hard for him to do anything. His own fears paralyzed him. 

It was kind of amusing in a twisted way; best way to make Steve Rogers suffer was to make him fall in love with you.

After a moment, Steve manages to gather himself up again, thought he was getting sleepy.  
Natasha helps him up, and brings him somewhere to sleep – not the usual bedroom though as she knew the source of Steve’s torment was there – and orders Clint to watch after their boss as he slept.

“What are you going to do?” The sand blond haired man asks, noting the serious frown the woman had in her face.

“I will have a chat with our little cage bird.”

 

Bucky was surprised to find the woman come in all of a sudden, and he sits up, wondering what she wanted. The woman closes the door and now looks at him with a frown.

"What?" The brunet asks from her with a frown.  
"I'll be telling you a little story, and your fate depends on your reaction."  
Her tone was dead serious, and Bucky could tell she had a gun. The man just stands there, watching her pace around with her arms crossed, lips in a tight line.

"There was a young wolf once, which was eager to climb up in the hierarchy of his pack."  
Bucky blinks confused, but lets her talk.

"He was good, but gullible; bigger wolves took advantage of his ambition and inexperience, getting him to do their bidding with promises of personal blessings and adoration."  
The brunet shifts, rubbing his neck, not really understanding where she was going with this.

"They never kept them; they beat the poor cub down multiple times, to the point he became afraid of opening his heart to anybody, but his trusted spider who always was beside him."  
The woman sighs, and stops her pacing, turning to look at Bucky.

"The spider kept warning him each time, but he didn't listen. One day, the cub had enough, and took out those who abused him. He finally did reach the top, but not without scars."

"Are you talkin' about Steve?"

The woman just gives him a stern glare, and Bucky shuts up, actually unnerved by it.  
"Then one day, a little Magpie appears, it flies in circles around the wolf, taunting him, gaining his interest. But the spider doesn't trust it. The spider worries if the wolf gets too close, the bird will just poke his eyes out."

Bucky starts to realize what this story was about.  
"Look, if you still think I was sent here to kill somebody…” Bucky rushes to defend himself, but Natasha gives him a glare, making the man shut up again.  
"Let me finish!"  
The brunet goes quiet again, watching her with a frown.  
"The bird lets the wolf play with him, touch his wings, come close enough only to move away, as if luring the wolf to a trap."

The woman bites his lip, and looks at the man now straight in the eyes.

"This Magpie is a thief; he manages to slip past the walls the wolf had put up, and steal his most priced belonging, and now the spider is concerned what the Magpie will do with it."  
Bucky remains quiet, still not quite understanding her story. He had a feeling though that he knew whom each animal represented.

"What did the bird steal exactly?"  
Natasha brushes trough her hair, looking at him pointedly.  
"A heart."

The brunet blinks, then his eyes widen, and he stares at Natasha in shock.  
"Wait...what?"

"You heard me. I don't know how, or why, but I know when Steve is lovestruck."  
Bucky just gapes at her, and then turns his gaze away, shaking his head.  
"So…he wasn’t really playing a game?”

The brunet felt a flurry of emotion surge in him now; Shock, confusion, excitement, anger, all of it.

"I would not joke about this; Steve has been abused in the past too many times, I'm not letting you break him as well." The woman's tone was chilly, and her hand was now resting at the handle of her gun. Bucky doesn't even notice that, as he just stares at the wall, recounting everything that had happened in his head.  
He began to understand the regretful glance Steve had done now. 

 

"Do you understand why I am telling this to you?”  
“Why?” Bucky asks, because honestly, he wasn’t sure why she was doing it.

"Because I want this to end before it can hurt him worse than it already has.” Natasha’s tone was serious, and he glares at Bucky, clearly expecting some sort of an answer to whatever unsaid question she had.

Bucky remains quiet at first, just staring at her dully. He wasn’t scared, just...overwhelmed. As the silence mounts, Natasha’s hand grips the handle of her gun firmer. She was clearly getting tired of waiting.

"I did not come here with the intent to cause any trouble, well, aside from stealing some stuff to sell so I’d get money to flee from this city.” He says quietly, swallowing down hard.

"I…I swear, I wouldn’t do shit like what you told me. I just…” Bucky sighs helplessly, not knowing what to say. Yes, it was pretty clear that his actions the other night probably made this whole thing worse, and now that Natasha had told him the story, Bucky could understand the reasons behind Steve’s shift of attitude. Bucky had done bad things in the past, but this was the first time he'd done them involuntarily, never actually meaning to. it made the whole thing worse. 

It’s no wonder Steve tried to put walls up again as quickly as he could, if the man was used to getting hurt after showing bits of his vulnerable side to someone.  
Hell, given Natasha's attitude, he was probably hurt already. 

Natasha remains quiet, examining every inch of his face. Finally, she sighs and drops the weapon, sensing not even hint of a lie from him. He was genuinely shocked and guilty right now.  
"Then you need to make it stop; leave this mansion, and don't come back."  
Bucky looks up at her, wanting to protest, but she just shakes her head.

"Just go."  
The woman orders, booking no room for argument as she grabs Bucky's bag she'd also brought there, and hands it to him. It had extra cash on it, and some food. 

"Steve is the closest friend I've had. If you really didn't intend to hurt him, then you stop this crazy game before he hurts himself more with his indecisiveness about you; I don't want to see him fall like this again." 

Her tone went softer involuntarily, and Bucky says nothing, just takes his bag and walks out of the basement. He considers on going to Steve's wing, but could feel Natasha follow her, so the man just heads for the door, glancing behind him with a huge swell of emotions twirling in his chest.

 

“You just let him go?" Tony questions confused, and the woman sighs, rubbing her eyes.  
"It was the best thing to do. It's honestly not his fault that whatever happened, happened. He was clearly unaware of what was going on exactly."

Tony tilts his head confused, but Natasha doesn't bother explaining. Tony did not need to know about Steve's weak spots. The man is about to ask something, when suddenly they hear a loud crashing sound, and next thing they know something explodes, filling the air with thick smoke.

"What the?!" Tony questions, then coughs, feeling his vision start stinging and blur.

"The mansion is under attack!" Barton manages to yell, before they hear a sound of a struggle, and something crashing to the floor. Natasha grabs her gun, but before she could even try to gather her bearings, something hard hits her head, and the woman stumbles to the floor, unconscious.  
The last thing she saw was a familiar scarred face smirking down at him. 

 

Bucky had made it to his apartment, and was still having mixed feelings about this. He was free to go, Steve probably wouldn't bother following him anymore, and he had enough cash to get to the other side of the country. 

Still, he felt... reluctant to do it now. 

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure why, but he didn't want to leave without having explained himself to Steve.  
He wanted to let the man know that he'd...he'd never intended to hurt him, not like that.  
The brunet sighs irritated, rubbing his eyes.

He honestly wasn’t sure how this would make things better; if anything, leaving would just prove to Steve that he’d let himself be hurt again like a fool. It didn’t solve the problem in Bucky’s eyes, just swiped it under the rug.

Suddenly, he hears a clank on the door, and Bucky’s heart jumps in his chest; for a moment he thinks its Rogers, but is baffled when he sees Barton scramble in, bleeding from his lip and panting heavily.

"Oh good, you didn't skip town yet." He huffs, trying to catch his breath.  
"Why the hell are you here?" Bucky asks, but quickly moves to help the man sit down to the floor, checking his injuries.  
"You gotta help me!"  
Bucky blinks, confused about his words  
"What the hell happened?"

"Rumlow, that bastard: he brought a rivaling gang into our mansion."  
Bucky's blood ran cold, but he keeps himself calm.  
"They're gonna kill 'im if we don't do something."  
"Steve?"

Barton snorts at him, as if that was obvious.

The brunet grabs his first aid kit and helps patching Barton up, frowning.  
"Why do you care so much? Most gangsters I know would love to off their boss."  
"Rogers ain't that bad." Barton comments, and then flinches a bit as Bucky stitches his cheek.  
"He's not?"

"No. I would've been dead by now if it wasn't for him. Tony was also screwed over, until Rogers picked him up and gave him a new job."  
Bucky hums, finishing the stitches.  
"What makes you think I could help you?"

Barton grabs his arm, looking at him with no nonsense look, uncharacteristic to the man.  
"They are after you."

Bucky goes quiet, just staring at the man for a moment.  
Shit. They found him?  
“….Hydra?”  
Barton nods, and then flinches as his side aches pretty bad.  
“I don’t know what did you do to them, but you cannot just up and leave and let us deal with your mess.”

Bucky shakes his head now, backing away.  
"I can't go back there, it would be bloody suicide!"  
"Why not?" Barton demands, clearly angry at him right now  
"Because I killed their boss."  
That shuts the man up, and he just gapes at Bucky stunned.  
“So then…you’re…”

The brunet huffs frustrated, pacing around and rubbing his head, trying to get his thoughts in order. His mind was reeling, his heartbeat had risen, and for once he doesn’t enjoy the hormonal spike it causes. 

“You’re the guy they nicknamed “the winter soldier?”  
Bucky huffs and spins around his heels, glaring at Barton.  
“Yes. I don’t know where the hell Skull got that name from, but it’s me.”  
Clint remains quiet, gaping at him. Then his face settles back into a deep frown, as he scrambles up from the floor and walks to Bucky, grasping his collar. The man’s stare was nowhere near as intimidating as Steve’s, but it was clear he was angry.

“You don’t get to run away and have people drop dead because of your mess.”  
“I don’t owe Steve anything! He kept me prisoner!” Bucky counters with an angry snarl.  
“He offered you a job, that’s all he did!”

“So part of the job offer is him locking me into his room?!”  
Barton pauses, then casts his gaze to the side with a sigh, letting go of Bucky’s collar.  
“Nat thinks we don’t know what’s up with Steve, but I’ve been with him long enough to see the signs.”

Bucky didn’t have to ask what the man was referring to.  
“I’m not saying you have to care for that, since you haven’t known that long, but at least have the common decency to not let him die for your mistakes; this thing had nothing to do with Steve, and it’s not fair to have him die for a crime he didn’t even commit.”  
The brunet gazes at Barton’s resolute face quietly for a moment, and then glances at his back bag still on the floor, full of cash Natasha had given him.  
Bucky releases a slow sigh, feeling guilt tug in his heart now.  
Finally, he turns to look at Barton with a frown on his face.  
“Do you have a plan then?”  
The sand blond haired man blinks, probably having not expected that answer, but then smirks a bit.

“I do actually; we gotta stop by Tony’s stockpile.”  
Bucky hums, then walks to his bag, grasping a knife and a gun from there.  
He pauses for a moment, gazing out of the window.

“You know…Natasha did tell me this has to end. Well, I’m definitely ending something tonight.”  
He was tired of running. 

 

 

When Steve woke up, his head was aching.

He soon realized something was off; he was no longer in his bedroom, and his hands were tied behind his back. As his vision clears, the man realizes he was in the mansion basement, sitting on the same chair Bucky had been tied into the first time.

Just thinking about the man made his chest ache, but it was soon pushed aside as he realized the situation. 

There was a group of unknown men, and Tony and Natasha were being held at gunpoint, whereas Clint was nowhere in sight. Rumlow was standing in front of him with a sneer on his face.  
"Where'd you hide 'im?"

Steve just stares at Rumlow blankly, gaining a slap on his face. Natasha shoots a furious glare at the scarred man, but the one holding her wrists yanks the woman back instantly.

"Where's your little cage bird? We searched through the entire place while you were napping, and couldn't find him!"

Steve soon realizes whom Rumlow was referring to.  
"You…couldn’t find Bucky?”

There was a flurry of emotions hidden beneath his stoic face; Steve was confused about what was going on, angry at this intrusion to his home, but the worst part was this shameful ache he felt at his chest about the knowledge that Bucky had left.  
He’d left like everybody else before him.

Steve wasn’t surprised about it, but it still hurt.

"Are you seriously claiming he managed to escape again?" Rumlow huffs frustrated.

"The hell you want from that guy anyway?” Tony asks with a frown, and the scarred man glances at him irritated.  
“You guys cannot be that dense; he’s infamous.”  
Steve just lifts eyebrow, and the man huffs, shaking his head.  
“Didn’t recognize him myself at first admittedly, never seen his face, and he re-worked his tattoo, but the bird you kept in your fancy cage is the man who killed Red Skull.”

Steve feels his gut twist and jump in an unpleasant shock as his eyes widen slightly.  
Bucky was…  
He’d heard about Red Skulls demise, betrayed by one of his assassins, but he’d never thought Bucky had been the one who’d done it.

“Wait, so you’re saying that Bucky…is the winter soldier, or whatever nickname that guy had.” Tony asks baffled. Sure, the brunet had shown signs of being tough and fast, and quick-witted, but he never came off as purely cold-blooded to the young man.  
Steve apparently agreed with Tony’s trail of thought, as he was frowning a bit.

"What? Surprised to find out you were holding a real cold-blooded traitor in your hands?” Rumlow tsks, grabbing his hair and crouching until they were face-to-face.

“Trust me Rogers, the man’s a true monster, would sell his mum to the devil if asked; he could’ve slit your throat or snapped our neck at any time.” The man smirks at him, a wide angry grin from almost ear to ear. “I’m a little disappointed he didn’t.”

Steve just glares up at Rumlow, keeping his face stoic again, while his insides raged; he didn’t buy Rumlow’s words. Steve just couldn’t imagine Bucky being a man so cunning that they would turn against their own boss like that. Let alone the other things Rumlow hinted at.

It was clear his stoic expression annoyed the man, as he snarls irritated after a moment and smacks him, making Steve’s ears ring. He still refused to showcase his true discomfort for Brock however. 

“So, let me ask again; where is he? I doubt you have any reason to hide the man now that you know the truth.” The man smirks at Steve, who just remains quiet. His old stab wound ached pretty bad right now, but the blond man refused to show it.  
“He left.” Natasha pipes in suddenly, and they all turn to look at her. Rumlow marches to the woman, holding a blade under her throat. “You better not be lying to save your boss’ ass!”  
Natasha just stares up at him, unblinking.  
She could feel Steve’s gaze at her now, and knew Steve would be upset with her later, but now was not the time for it.  
“I am not; I told him to leave because I recognized who he was.”  
It was a partial lie; she had only guessed he’d been trained by Hydra, but hadn’t deduced that Bucky was in fact the man responsible for Red Skull’s demise. 

"What are we gonna do now? Zemo wants the man." One of the minions, the man holding Tony asks. Rumlow frowns as he moves away from the red haired woman, contemplating their next move for a moment. Romanoff could still be lying for all he knew, but it would explain why they couldn’t find the guy despite sweeping through the mansion.

“Perhaps you should start by letting us go; since Bucky isn’t here anymore, you got no reason to go after Steve.” Natasha states calmly, and the man glances at her again.

“Not exactly; Zemo said he doesn’t mind if we off the competition a bit.” He smirks and turns towards Steve, pulling out a gun. The blond doesn’t flinch or hesitate, just stares at him blankly.  
“You know, I never really liked you that much; too crazy on one end, too lenient in another.” Rumlow chats casually, aiming the gun at Steve’s head. Suddenly, Natasha yanks at her arms again, and then swings her foot back at the man’s groin, and the brawly guy releases her with a groan, before getting kicked in the face. 

She then takes down the one holding Tony by kicking him in the jaw and then grabbing his gun, shooting the man in the face. 

She finally whips around to point her gun at Brock, who still pointed his at Steve.  
“I recommend not doing it sweetheart; your boss will be dead before you can make it.” Rumlow smirks at her, and Natasha’s gun wavers as he looks at Steve.  
“Don’t hesitate.” Steve tells her simply, clearly accepting the chance he could possibly die now.  
He was still too weakened by the stabbing to really try and do something himself.

Plus, Steve had always known a day like this would come; his only regret was that the one killing him would be bloody Brock Rumlow.  
It was pitiful.

A gunshot is heard in the air.

The scarred man falls to the ground for everyone’s surprise, and a drizzle of blood drips from his forehead wound.

Steve looks at Natasha, but the woman shakes her head, then looks to the side, up at one of the basement windows that was open.  
After a second, a form slips in from it, landing to the floor with a soft thud.  
“Well…this is kind of backwards, but works; normally I’d try to get out through this window, not in.”

It was Bucky, and he was holding a gun he’d used to shoot Rumlow with.  
“What are you doing here?” Natasha asks baffled; she’d been certain that the man would have fled the city already.

Bucky straightens himself, and turns to look at her face in a serious frown.

“You know, I was supposed to skip town, but then your sandy hair buddy caught me on the way, telling that I can’t just up an’ leave like that.”  
“So Barton is okay?” Tony questions clearly relieved to hear that his comrade was alive.  
Bucky glances at him and nods.

“Yeah; he caught me from my secret apartment and called me out for running away; gotta say, for a guy who’s usually so chill, he can be pretty fierce motivational speaker.” The brunet grins a bit, and then slowly turns to look at Steve with a guilty look on his face.  
The blond just shakes his head, tugging at his bindings.

“Get me off these, so I can personally send these bothersome peasants to the pits of hell.”  
The amount of anger in Steve’s tone was quite something, but the brunet had a feeling it wasn’t really aimed at him despite the harsh glare.

Bucky walks to him and slowly undoes the knots, and Steve brings his hands forward as he stands up, rubbing his wrists with a cold look on his face. 

“I’m guessing you know the truth now.” Bucky comments, still a bit uneasy. Steve just glares down at him, though there was a hint of some sort of joy in his eyes; he was clearly at least partially happy to see Bucky came back to help them, and it gave the brunet hope the man didn’t hate his guts now.

“So, you’re the Winter Soldier huh?”  
“Yep. Was, anyway. I swear it’s not whatever Rumlow told you though...”  
Steve hums, making the brunet turn quiet as he waits nervously what Steve was gonna say next.  
“Then prove it. Show me how good you actually are.”

Bucky stares at him clearly surprised that Steve didn’t despise him now. He huffs out a sigh finally and smirks at Steve, unable to stop himself.

“Very well then, boss; this is my mess anyway so I’m gonna clean it.”  
The blond hums, crossing his arms with his usual authoritarian stare. There is a hint of glee in his eyes though, something he couldn’t quite hide.  
“You better.”

Bucky grabs a radio he had on his belt, and calls for somebody.  
“Barton, I freed the cage-birds for now; set ‘em off.”

Before anybody could ask what was going on, a series of small explosions resonate throughout the mansion, making the whole place shake a bit, dust falling off the basement ceiling.  
“Good one; musta taken out a bunch of ‘em by surprise.” Bucky snickers at the radio, gaining a lift eyebrow from Steve who kept his gaze intently at Bucky.

“Barton planted small bombs to the hidden passageways and blasted them just now. That’s gonna have these guys running for the hills.”

“How did you manage to find where they kept us?” Natasha questions, and Bucky shrugs casually  
“Barton said this basement room would make the most sense as this is where Steve usually interrogates people. I noticed that myself.” Bucky gives the blond a pointed look. The corner of the blond man’s mouth tilts upwards, but he says nothing.

“Rumlow must have told his minions about the tunnels though; how did you manage to sneak by them like that?”

“Well, there was some tech in Tony’s stash we raided that bothered the cameras; once nobody was able to watch their back, we could easily pick out the few in them.”  
“Barton needs to stop touching my stuff!” Tony complains, but it was half-assed as he was quite impressed by the two men’s efforts.

“So what is the next step? Just storm the manor trough the basement door?” Natasha questions now, looking between Bucky and her boss. Steve just cracks his neck, and looks at Bucky.  
“I assume you have a plan.”

Bucky hums, and picks up his Radio again.  
“You in the control room already?”

“Yep; they only had like one dude here, munching on Tony’s donuts. These guys gotta be rookies as no professional would be this careless when raiding this place.”

The group was clearly happy to hear Barton’s voice, followed by a miffed sound from Tony as he heard the last part. Bucky smirks pleased, then turns serious again.

“How many hostiles do we have left?”

“The blasts took out quite a few, but there’s still at least three or four guys lurking in the manor. They’re now avoiding the secret routes in fear of more booming surprises. Sorry about the mess boss, it was unavoidable.”  
Steve just snorts at that.  
“I’ll take it away from your salary next month.” He comments half-heartedly, clearly more pleased than angry.

Bucky hums approvingly; taking out those few last ones would probably be easy.  
He clicks his gun and looks up at the group.  
“Clint will keep tabs on where the bastards are. They are bound to be freaked out right now, not knowing when the next explosion is gonna happen.”  
“Psychological tactics I see; is there going to be more?” Natasha asks casually as she grabs her gun firmly, ready for action.  
“Nah; But they don’t know it.” The brunet smirks at her.

Dealing with the rest of them was fairly easy indeed; the goons did not know the layout so well, so sneaking on them was a piece of cake, especially when Barton informed them on where each guy was hiding.

Bucky nor Natasha didn’t have to do that much thought, just cover Steve’s back as he personally took down the rest of them, legit breaking one guy’s back with a harsh kick to the guy’s spine. The one hiding in Natasha’s room got his face smashed against her mirror, making the woman complain about bad luck for the next seven years. 

It was clear that these guys had expected to have an upper hand against Steve with the surprise attack and numbers, let alone his injury, but Rogers reminded them once again why he was considered one of the most fearsome leaders in the underground. 

Bucky followed the whole show with morbid fascination; it was brutal, and kind of thrilling to watch. Steve was absolutely ruthless now, taking out each and every intruder with nearly his bare hands.

Only once did Bucky have to shoot a guy because they managed to pull his gun on Steve.

Eventually they’d located every last one of the men hiding in the manor, and the few Steve left alive escape to probably inform their boss of a failed mission. This was going to send a message for sure to the current Hydra leader, but Bucky wasn’t sure what kind of message it would be.

Part of him worried a backlash, that these guys would try and attack Steve again as revenge. 

He watches Barton and Natasha handle cleaning up the bodies, whereas Tony kept his eyes on the security system to make sure there were no further enemies lurking within their walls.  
Steve was currently standing in the living room, rubbing his neck irritated; the manor was indeed a mess, and fixing all this could take a while.

Not to mention, the explosions were probably heard in the city, so people would come and ask questions. 

“We handle the clean-up for this Steve; remember what the doctor said.” Natasha reminds him casually, wiping bloodstains off an expensive vase at the living room.  
“What’re you gonna tell ‘em?” Steve questions without looking at her.  
“Gas explosion; the manor’s pretty old and there’s been problems with leaks before, remember?”  
“I’m pretty sure we got those fixed years ago.”  
The woman gives him an innocent smile.  
“It’s not a problem that money in the right places won’t solve; you have to switch sites for a bit while we get this place repaired though.”  
She then glances at Bucky, who was leaning against the wall, sort of unsure on what to do now.  
After a moment of hesitation, Natasha sighs and grasps Steve’s shoulder, making the man look at her.

“Talk to him. Make your stance clear finally.” She pauses, and then offers him an encouraging smile. It was a leap of faith from her, but the fact Bucky had come back spoke volumes to Natasha.

Steve looks at Bucky for a moment, and while his face was stoic, it was clear to the woman he was still struggling with himself. Without a word however, the blond walks to Bucky, and gestures him to follow.  
They head to Steve’s wing, which was also bit of a mess, and Steve stops, closing the door behind him before turning to look at Bucky.

They both just stand there in silence, not knowing what to say or do.  
Finally, Bucky breaks the silence with a sigh.  
“I’m sorry about this; they woulda have never come and caused a riot if I hadn’t come here.”  
“Perhaps.” 

Steve says calmly, pacing closer to Bucky until they were face to face. 

“….I never…the stuff with Skull was personal. I never came here to kill you, or anybody like I said, I swear.” Bucky whispers almost desperately, looking down to their feet, hands in his pockets.

“I know; you would have done it already if you did.”  
Steve states diplomatically, though he was honestly a little relieved to hear that.

“He killed my family. He tried to hunt me down too, so I hid myself right under his nose, before blowing his brains out.” There was a hint of darkness in Bucky’s tone, and his expression shifts into something stormier, before going calm again. He refused to look at Steve however.  
Except, Steve grasps his jaw, basically forcing the man look up at him.

“….Why did you come here then? Tell me the truth Bucky.”  
“If you finally tell me what you want from me.” The brunet counters, and Steve sighs with a tired smile.  
“You first.”  
Bucky huffs irritated, but humor him regardless. 

“I just needed to get away; those guys already were on my tail. I actually stumbled upon the entrance to the mazes by accident and hid there. I also found the mansion layout map from down there too – I guess the original architect dropped and forgot a copy there or something - and since I’d heard rumors about the stash you guys had in this place…”

Bucky sighs, and rubs his eyes.  
“I figured I could sell the stuff to get money and escape from the city.”

Steve hums, lifting eyebrow as his hands sneaks up to cup his cheek now, caressing it with his thumb.  
“That all?”

Bucky grimaces; Steve had his number about this clearly.

“Yes, what I said earlier on stands; I did kind of do it too cause the idea of snatching something right under Steve Rogers’ nose sounded thrilling.”  
“You’re a crazy little bird, aren’t you?” Steve chuckles amused, pressing his thumb against Bucky’s lips for a moment.  
The brunet snorts at that.  
“Look who’s talking; Mr. Jekyll and Hyde.”

Steve’s gaze turns into something guiltier now, and he looks aside for a moment.  
“The things I said back in my office…I didn’t actually mean it.”  
He admits with a quiet whisper, and swallows down hardly before continuing.  
“I just…get cautious when I start to grow fond of someone.”

Bucky sighs, shaking his head with a sad smile.

“I don’t blame you. Romanoff gave me a short storybook version on your history, so…”  
Steve sighs too now, and slips his hands to Bucky’s waist. The man doesn’t resist the touch at all, just places his hands against Steve’s chest, still looking up at him.

“I’m sorry Steve; I didn’t mean to steal that thing. It just sort of happened I suppose.”  
“I let you. It’s my own fault.” The blond man huffs and shakes his head. He was shaking lightly, clearly still uneasy about this; he was baring his throat to Bucky now, hoping for the best but fearing the worst. 

The brunet bites his lip, looking down at his hands pressed against Steve’s chest.  
He’d sort of made his mind already the second he’d decided to aid Clint, but the man was still nervous, knowing he was going to jump into the unknown now.  
“…..You know. If anything, I probably have to stay now regardless.” He begins, feeling Steve pause for a moment under his touch, and look at him with lift eyebrow.  
“After what happened…I would not feel right just leaving like that. I don’t want those bastards go after you because of me.”  
Bucky really meant that; he was still fearful of them attacking again as revenge, so he wanted to be there in case that happened.  
Barton had been right anyway; it would not be right to have Steve die for what he did.  
If you gotta punish somebody, punish them for what they actually did.

“I can handle them Bucky.”  
The brunet snorts, rolling his eyes.

“You looked pretty ready to die there when the guy had a gun to your face.”  
“Part of the job.” Steve comments diplomatically, his left hand caressing Bucky’s side lightly.  
The brunet shakes his head, but he was smiling a bit now. 

“Don’t force yourself to stay out of obligation.” Steve comments suddenly, and Bucky looks up at him confused. The man just sighs tiredly, shaking his head and cupping his cheek.  
“You said once, that giving me what I wanted would be predictable.”

The brunet snorts, and then actually laughs a bit.  
Of course Steve would bring that up.

“Yeah, but the thing is…” He finally whispers softly as the laughter dies down, looking at Steve a bit cautiously.  
“I…wouldn’t mind it, honestly. I don’t have a place to go anyway and…” he pauses, glancing at the bathroom door. Steve follows his gaze, knowing what Bucky was thinking. His hands pull the brunet closer subconsciously, and Bucky either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t mind it.

“I guess….I wanna give you a chance is all I’m saying.”  
He finally sighs, unsure on how else to put it. He could not really deny he had this strange fondness towards Steve that had partially made him come back for aid with Barton. Plus, after hearing Natasha’s story, he just….he really wanted to help this lone man, if just to cleanse his own sins somewhat.

“Do you mean that?” Steve asks his tone slightly fervent now, tilting their foreheads together.

He was shaking again, so Bucky shifts closer to bring his arms around Steve, resting his head against the warm chest. He could hear Steve’s heartbeat rise under his ear.  
“Yeah. I actually tend to keep my promises.” Bucky comments softly, feeling the warm arms creep around him, holding him firmly against Steve’s body.

“I mean… the fact you didn’t seem bothered about the whole Red Skull thing; that actually means a lot to me.” Bucky whispers after a moment, feeling his body start to shake now as well.  
Steve lets out a questioning hum.

“After that, most people like you would have just offed me instantly.”  
Steve couldn’t deny that; it would have been the logical thing to do.

It was just hard to be logical about it, when he could recall how Bucky’s lips felt against his own.  
“So…” The brunet looks up at Steve with a slightly shaky smile.  
“I wanna stay. It’s technically speaking the safest option for me anyway given that the boss of this place actually doesn't want to kill me." Bucky flashes Steve a playful smirk, then adds; "Also … maybe I can make you be less of a dick to people too.”

Steve cannot stop himself, he barks out a laugh as he hears Bucky’s playful tone, and shakes his head.

“You’re something else, that’s for sure.” He chuckles, and then gives him a pointed look.  
“Not likely, by the way. As a boss I can be as much of a dick as I want.”  
Bucky hums, leaning closer, until their lips ghosted over one another.  
“I’m gonna try either way.”  
Steve’s smile softens, and he closes the gap, kissing Bucky gently.  
They kiss until Bucky has to break away for air, and he leans his head against Steve’s chest, a smile on his lips.

A warm hand sneaks up into his hair, caressing it gently.  
It was a risky decision honestly, to stay.  
But perhaps they could make it work.  
Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then  
> This chapter surely took me a while; I actually had to almost completely scrap the original draft I had because I felt the tone changed too fast, and then the new version lacked some things it needed, so I basically took bits from both versions.  
> Hopefully I managed to merge the bits together without leaving any strange things in there. Figuring out the ending also took a while. The second part of this series will have more focus on the action than this one did, as, well, more stuff will happen there naturally.
> 
> Also, a cliffhanger-y ending as the second part of this series will touch more upon the obvious problems these two are going to have in their relationship.  
> So yeah, it's not really a happy ending yet, more of a jump to the unknown.


End file.
